


Hel on Earth

by xenascully



Series: Castiel's Army [4]
Category: NCIS, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Temporary Character Death, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-27
Updated: 2010-09-27
Packaged: 2018-01-18 01:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 39,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1410595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenascully/pseuds/xenascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's army defeated the demon who summoned Loki's demented children. But not before releasing the worst of them all. Now, some will face personal demons before they can begin to try and take her and her own army down...<br/> Picks up where Ouroboros leaves off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or Supernatural. But...well, yeah, you know.

“We're reporting live from downtown Metro's Covenant House after the discovery of what seems to have been a cult mass-suicide,” The team gathered around the TV in the bullpen as the female reporter narrated. “Six residents were found dead in the shelter's recreational center after an unauthorized gathering sources believe to have probably been going on long before their final meet last night.”  
The screen switched to a pre-recorded interview done with the shelter's director, “I just don't understand,” the African-American woman was in tears. “These were good people. Good kids tryin' to get back on their feet. I don't know why they'd do somethin' like this. People are sayin' 'cult', but I can't believe that...not for a minute! Not for a minute...”  
The newscaster reappeared on-screen, “Metro PD believes the members took some kind of poisonous drink that stopped their hearts. But so far haven't been able to find any trace of drugs in their systems. Their supposed leader was found with a self-inflicted stab-wound to the chest. Names of the victims are being withheld until we can contact family...”

“Shame, isn't it?” Director Vance's voice sounded from where he was suddenly standing just inside the bullpen. Out of instinct, Ziva and McGee scattered to their desks; Tony switching off the TV before sitting back down at his own. Gibbs looked over at Vance in question. “Jackie used to volunteer at Covenant House a couple days outta the week back when the kids first started back at school.”

“She know any of the victims?” Gibbs asked him.

“They came in after she'd already left. But she knows the director. She plans to go visit with her today if the media dies down.”

“Tell her to be careful,” Gibbs said as he made his way back to his desk.

“Not to drink the punch?” Vance asked with a smirk, but then glanced around the bullpen at the tense faces, finally settling back on Gibbs before approaching his desk. “There somethin' about this case you know that I don't, Gibbs?” The lead agent simply looked up at him from his desk. “Tom says you and your team came through the gate yesterday. I wasn't aware you'd had an open case.”

“We don't,” he replied. “But we came across an article about another victim of a wild dog attack. One we didn't hear about when we still had the case. And seeing as Shriver's case hasn't been looked into further, we thought we'd follow up on it.”

“We're not animal control, Jethro.”

“No, we're not. But the victim had a tattoo of an ouroboros. McGee's captor had the same one. He also happens to be one of the six victims found at the Covenant House last night. All six of them had the tattoo.”

“So it was some kinda cult,” Vance surmised. Then he narrowed his eyes as he came to a revelation, “You discovered the victims when you went to talk to them, didn't you? One of them being McGee's kidnapper gives NCIS jurisdiction on this case. Why'd you hand it over to Metro?”

“We know what happened, Leon,” he replied simply. “Now we've got bigger fish to fry.”

“Like I said before, I wasn't aware you had an open case...”

“We don't; not officially.”

“You don't use this office for unofficial business, Agent Gibbs. You wanna continue whatever it is your investigating, you need to run it by me, first.” Vance held Gibbs' glare, giving as good as he got. Gibbs glanced to Tony, who'd been quietly and anxiously observing the conversation. “Conference room; all of you. Now,” Vance ordered.  
Robotic in their movement, they all stood and followed Vance to the conference room, each sharing nervous glances before entering. They each took a seat at the long table, except for Gibbs, who watched as Vance closed the door and turned to face them. “What's goin' on?”

“Things you probably don't wanna know about, Director,” Tony supplied.

“Oh, I wanna know,” he retorted as he stalked to the chair closest to the window. “Sit down, Gibbs.”

After a moment, Gibbs did as he was told. “It's not that we don't wanna fill you in, Leon,” he began, “But it's hard to believe.”

“I've seen a lot of things in my day, Gibbs. Try me.”

“Nothin' like this,” he insisted. 

“We even had trouble believing it ourselves, at first,” Tony added. 

“But it is difficult to deny when you witness them with your own eyes,” Ziva told him.

“Just how long has this been going on?” Vance questioned.

“Where it started to involve us?” Tony asked. “Right after my father died in the accident.”

“This is about your father?” 

“Not exactly. It's just...when things started to get weird.” 

After a noted amount of silence, McGee decided to begin the elaboration. “At first, we were pretty sure Abby was having some sort of...episode. She called Gibbs that night, claiming there was someone in her home meaning to cause her harm. Only, when we got there, he was gone. She claimed to have seen Tony's father.”

Leon raised his brow, “And this turned out not to be an 'episode', as you put it?”

“Well...like I said, at first we were pretty sure she'd seen someone at least. But her description of what he was wearing matched the description exactly that of what DiNozzo Sr was wearing at the time of his death. Since Abby was away at a convention that entire day, there was really no explanation as to how she would've known that. So, to calm her fears, I brought her back here to let her run some info through the database. Little did I realize, her true intention was to call in some professionals.”

“Professionals in what?”

“A lot of things,” Tony smirked. “But she called them in hopes that they could do some ghost-busting.” Vance simply raised his brows again. “We went along with it for the simple reason of giving Abby peace of mind. They told her to stay away from her apartment; find a place to stay the night where she'd feel safe, and to put salt down in the doorways and windows to ward off whatever might be after her. 'Cause, see, at the time, she figured it was just after her.”

“McGee brought her to my house,” Gibbs took over. “Tony was already there and she insisted they all stay. Then things started getting a bit...unexplainable.”

“Tony began getting headaches,” McGee said. “Really bad to the point we thought he should go to a hospital. But he insisted he was fine. Thing is, he was having visions.”

“Visions?” at this point, Vance was simply waiting for them to crack and say this was all some kind of joke; an elaborate hidden camera prank. He visually scanned the room for any red lights.

“He saw Ducky in his first vision,” Gibbs picked up. “But at the time, he wasn't sure what it meant. Then I got a call from Ziva, tellin' us Ducky was sick.”

“This is when Dr. Mallard ended up in the hospital?” Vance furrowed a brow, suddenly convinced they weren't actually joking, but questioning their sanity a bit.

Gibbs nodded. “Turns out he'd seen the spirit, but couldn't be attacked because his bed frame is made of iron. Apparently, ghosts can't cross through the stuff.”

“Gibbs...” 

“We said it was hard to believe, Leon. You wanna hear us out, or what?” Gibbs glared. Vance sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Tony's next vision was of Ziva being attacked.”

Vance looked at Ziva, who met his eyes instantly. “I was in the hospital,” she told him, “In the restroom, when I saw the spirit. It attacked me; held me up against the wall by my throat. I lost consciousness for a small amount of time. When I awoke, I believed I was possibly losing my mind. So, I went to Gibbs' house fearing that I might possibly be in some kind of danger by myself.”

“The Win-” McGee stopped short, realizing he shouldn't use their name, “The professionals showed up the next morning. After talking for a bit, Gibbs and I went with one of them to retrieve Sr's body.”

“That's when you asked permission to remove him,” Vance verified with Gibbs, who nodded in reply. 

“They said we needed to burn the body,” Gibbs told him. “Only way to put his spirit to rest. So we took him to a crematory.”

“Before we could finish,” McGee took over, “I saw it for the first time. He flung me into a cabinet and locked me inside.”

“Then he tried to drown me in a sink,” Gibbs told him. “'Til the professional was able to salt and burn the body, at which point the spirit kinda...evaporated.”

“We never saw him again, after that,” McGee said.

“And we thought we were done with the pros, till that case we caught with the dead Marine who was murdered by her husband and killed himself in his home,” Tony said. “Turns out, the guy was possessed.”

“Possessed...” Vance narrowed his eyes, “By a...ghost?”

“A demon, actually,” Tony replied. Vance looked for the tell-tale sign of bullshit, which would've been some kind of smirk. But none came. There really was nothing to respond with besides question, so he allowed him to continue. “Finding out ghosts really do exist, tends to open your mind a little to some possibilities. But, like with the spirit-problem, at first we weren't convinced.”

“What was it that convinced you?”

“One of them possessed McGee,” Ziva told him. “His eyes became black and he was able to throw Gibbs across the room without even touching him.”

“My back's still a bit sore,” Gibbs added with a slight smirk. Vance wasn't moving, aside from his eyes which moved back and forth between speaking agents.

“The pros knew how to tackle it though,” Tony said. “Some holy water and an incantation later, the demon thing kinda flew outta him. It's actually kinda gross...like vomiting black smoke.” After catching Vance's unamused glare, Tony continued, “Anyway, so we found a connection to three other similar incidents, thanks to these pros who'd been following the case a lot longer than we had. McGee made the connection that they'd all, at one point in time, been at a resteraunt called Arzeal's.”

“We talked to an employee; figured some things out,” Gibbs said. “Sent Tony and Ziva in undercover. Tony ended up being possessed by the demon.”

“The pros had a trap laid out the back door,” Tim took over. “So when Ziva led him out, we had the situation contained. They started the exorcism, but before they could finish, it stabbed Tony in the throat.”

Vance's eyes flickered as he recalled the fact that Tony had, in fact, been hospitalized with that injury. But this elaboration that he could only mentally process as some kind of psychotic lie, was getting just a little bit creepy. 

“That was the beginning of what none of us realized was going to become a small 'war',” Ziva told him. “Not even the professionals knew this.”

“The demons we've been hunting,” Gibbs told him, “Were being summoned by that 'cult' at the Covenant House.”

“There's been three so far,” Tony said. “We almost lost McGee,” his eyes shifted. “We did lose McGee, actually...”

“He was brought back by an angel,” Ziva told him.

“An angel...” Vance was getting a headache.

“He's the one who chose us all to do this,” McGee told him. “To hunt down these demons and take them out.”

“Why you?” Vance asked, purely out of curiosity in what was now a worthy fairytale if not for all the holes.

“We're not exactly sure,” Tony said, “But it's not really something we can sit back and ignore. Especially now that the little 'cult' successfully completed a ritual to summon yet another demon.”

“That's what we're working on now,” Gibbs finished. “And that's why Jackie shouldn't go to the Covenant House. Not yet.”

They all leaned back in their chairs, awaiting Vance's reaction to what he'd been told. The director focused his eyes on the table top for a few long moments before meeting each set of eyes in the room, one by one.  
“I want you all to go home,” he said. “And I don't want you back until you've each passed a psychological evaluation with someone qualified at NCIS. And I don't mean Ducky.”

“Leon-”

“No, Agent Gibbs,” he stopped him as he stood from his chair. “You've all obviously been working too hard. Take some time off. I won't put this on your records, but I'm damned serious about the evaluations. I don't wanna see any of you back here until I've got them on my desk. Do I make myself clear?” 

After a long moment, Gibbs stood, “Crystal.”


	2. Chapter 2

“That's uh...” Jackie sat at their kitchen table across from Leon as they enjoyed a drink while he'd explained what the MCRT had told him that day, “I really find it hard to believe they'd conspire such an elaborate hoax, baby. Are you sure there isn't some kind of office prank going on?”

“Jethro isn't usually one to participate in things like that. But I've got no idea on this one.”

“Well, I find it hard to believe that they've all collectively lost their minds. With the same corroborating story, nonetheless.”

“Are you suggesting I take it seriously? If it is a prank, then that's exactly what they want me to do. And if it is a prank...well, I still did what I was supposed to do.”

“Yes, you did,” she said as she stood and made her way over to him, wrapping her arms around him in an embrace. “Just relax for the night, baby. It's gotta be some kinda prank. What else could it be?”

Leon smiled and stood so he could return the embrace properly. “Other than them all bein' crazy? You're probably right.”

“I usually am,” she grinned. “Come on; let's go sit on the couch and I'll give you a back rub.” She pulled him along toward the living room. But once she was in the room, she gasped, and Leon looked toward the culprit.

Standing in the middle of the room was a man he'd never seen before, dressed in a suit and trench coat. “Who are you, and what are you doin' in my house?” Leon asked as he stepped protectively in front of his wife.

“I am Castiel and I've come here to convince you that your agents are not playing a...prank, as you call it. Nor are they mentally unstable.”

“Breaking into a home isn't the best way to go about doing that,” he replied.

Castiel cocked his head and narrowed his eyes, “I didn't break in. As you should be able to surmise, your alarm system has not been engaged, nor have any of your locks been touched.” The director glanced over at the door to see the deadbolt still in place.

“How the hell did you get in here, then?”

“I arrived. I would leave and knock on the door, but I doubt you'd let me back in.”

“Damn straight about that,” Leon replied. “Why are you here?”

“I told you.”

“Yeah, ya did. Now tell me how you plan to convince me.”

“For you, I cannot say anything to make you believe. I can only show you.” As he spoke, the room echoed with the sound of thunder and filled with flashes of bright light and he revealed his wings to the couple.  
Jackie clung to Leon's arm as her eyes filled with tears. Her husband couldn't help but to take a cautious step back. It took him a moment to realize what, exactly, he was seeing. The man standing before them was actually...an angel...

11 00 11 00 11

“Damnit, Cas!” Dean said after the angel appeared in the living room to the worried faces of the Winchester brothers and their surrogate father. “We talked about this; buddy-system, remember?”

“I didn't go walking about, Dean,” he defended. “I had something I needed to take care of. I came straight home.” 

“And you didn't think to let us know beforehand? Do you know how worried we were?” Dean paced. Sam couldn't help but to smirk at how his brother sounded like a nagging parent. To an angel, nonetheless. 

Castiel cocked his head, “I was only gone for a matter of minutes. I didn't mean to cause you to worry.”

“What was so damn important?” he stopped in front of the angel.

“Ensuring cooperation,” he replied. 

“With who?” Bobby asked.

“The man who Gibbs and his team answer to. They were being unjustly reprimanded.”

“Jeez, you didn't kill him, did you?” Dean gave him an incredulous look.

Castiel narrowed his eyes, “Why would I do such a thing?”

“I dunno, Cas. 'Ensuring cooperation' is like a code-term the Mob uses.”

“What's going on?” Tony asked as he came down the stairs after hearing the argument.

“Cas went off on some mission alone,” Dean told him.

“Dean,” Sam pulled his attention, “Don't you think you're going a little overboard, here?” Sam raised a brow. “He's back and he's okay.”

“Yeah, but what about next time, huh? We've got some crazy psycho demon-god-chick roamin' around out there and we don't know where she is, or if she's found a vessel, or what she plans on doing. Last thing we need is for one of us to go missing again. Especially Cas. If somethin' happens to him and one of us gets sick or hurt...” his voice tapered off before he walked nervously across the room. “Hell, Sammy...we almost lost you. I'm not gonna watch anyone suffer anymore because of some stupid crusade!” he directed the last line toward Castiel.

“Dean, I promise you I will not leave without someone, next time,” Castiel vowed. “I apologize for not following the buddy-system rule.”

Dean took a breath and glanced around the room, calming himself; or at least trying to. “Good,” he replied as he made his way to the armchair and sat. 

“Everything okay down here?” McGee asked as he came down the stairs.

“Yeah,” Tony replied, looking back at him. “Just a uh...family feud. Everything's okay now.”

“Okay... Is Ziva still downstairs doing laundry?”

“Far as I know. I think Gibbs and Ducky are down there, too,” Tony replied. 

“Thanks,” McGee headed toward the basement. 

Sam recalled something, in that moment. “Hey, Tony,” he said as he stood and started toward the kitchen, “I'm gonna grab a beer. You want one?”

“Uh...yeah, sure,” he followed.

Dean was about to ask for one, but Sam gave him a look that for some reason only they could comprehend, told him he had an agenda with this plan. Bobby stood from the couch, “C'mon, Dean. Let's go see if we can't weasel a shot of bourbon or two from Gibbs.” 

Sam was grateful that Bobby seemed to understand what he was planning to talk to Tony about. He wasn't really sure Dean should be around to hear it brought up. And he definitely didn't need him knowing he still thought about it.  
“Why do I get the feeling I'm about to be lectured?” Tony asked with a nervous smirk as he sat down at the table with his beer.

Sam let out a small laugh, “There's not gonna be a lecture. I just uh...thought it'd be good to talk to someone that's kinda been through the same experience I did, when I watched my brother die...the way he did. I don't exactly know anyone else who's actually seen that kinda thing happen. Especially to someone they care about.”

Tony met his eyes, “You still think about that?”

“Not something you can easily forget,” he smirked grimly.

“Yeah, well,” he cleared his throat, “I get why you still think about it. I mean, Dean was gone for a long time. Tim was...well, he was brought back the same night. Really just minutes afterward. You had months of living that over and over with no good outcome in the end until he came back. Until a couple nights ago, every time he died again in the dream, I'd wake up. But night before last, I stayed asleep long enough to watch Cas bring him back again. Last night, I didn't even dream about it.”

“You'll have it again, I'm sure,” Sam told him. “It really sucks. But it does get easier. You just...” he paused as he looked down at the bottle in his hands, “You can't stop them from coming if you carry around the guilt.” He met his eyes again with a sense of knowing. “When Dean died, all I could think about for all those months...and even after he came back, for a long time, was the fact that I couldn't stop it. After everything I'd tried before and after; nothing I did, no matter how hard I'd tried...I couldn't stop it and I couldn't bring him back. And to add to that, the fact that he was suffering down there...” he looked down again. “What he went through... Every day, Tony. What he went through, I can't even tell you how it must've been for him,” he met his eyes again, “But I know what I'd imagined. And it was pretty damn bad.”

Tony took a long swig from his beer, then quietly set it down on the table, “Guess I shouldn't really complain, huh?” he smirked.

“No, that's not what I meant at all,” Sam shook his head. “What I'm saying is, even though I know Dean's okay now, that he isn't dead and he isn't...deformed or scarred or in danger of being attacked that way again, it doesn't make those images go away. Sure, it's less painful now that he's back. But most of the pain...it's from the guilt. Nothing else.”

Tony's eyes darted around the table top for a few long moments before meeting Sam's eyes again. “How do you stop feeling guilty?” he asked quietly. “Everyone keeps tellin' me it's not my fault and there was nothing I could do... from the attack to the kidnapping and the possession. But I still...I feel it still. How do I stop?”

Sam snorted, “If you figure it out, let me know,” he emphasized with a tip of his bottle. “Of course, your friends are right; you have nothing to feel guilty about. None of that was in any way your fault. What happened to Dean...that was all me.”

Tony narrowed his eyes, “What are you talking about?”

“He basically killed himself to bring me back. Literally he traded his life for mine. How is it not?”

“Did you kill yourself?” he asked.

“What?”

“I heard you were stabbed in the back,” he said as he leaned back in his chair, “That's a pretty impressive way to off yourself.”

“I didn't kill myself.”

“Then how is it your fault?”

“Didn't you hear me?”

“Yeah, I heard you perfectly,” he let out a small laugh. “You were killed. Dean made the decision to make a deal to bring you back. Dean made the decision. Not you. And he didn't make it because you decided to die. Your spirit didn't come back and taunt him into making the deal. He chose to. That's not your fault.”

“But he should've let me-”

“What? Let you stay dead? Yeah, he could have. That's my point. He had a choice and he made the one he did. You said so yourself, you did everything you could to get him out of it. And you did everything you could think of to bring him back once he was gone. Guilt is something you should feel when you didn't do enough; when there was something you had a choice in; when there was that one thing you didn't try. By definition alone, you have no goddamn reason to feel guilty at all.”

An epiphany of emotions ran through Sam's head in that moment. He didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. It was as if someone had just lifted a sack of bricks from his chest; one he'd been carrying for as long as he could remember... And all with a few heartfelt sentences from a man he'd only met a short time ago.

He opted to laugh. “This was supposed to be about making you see reason.”

“Well,” Tony slapped on a grin, “You can ask anyone here; I've got a horrible problem with accepting relief from fault when I've already got it figured out in my head that I'm, on some level, to blame.”

“You didn't tell him to back away,” Sam said. It only took a moment for Tony to realize what he was talking about. The grin slowly began to fade. “You would've stepped in front of that dog and let it rip you apart to save him. Just like I would've done for Dean, if I could have.” Tony's gaze dropped somewhere between him and Sam. “You had no reason to even consider he was in danger standing in the driveway for a couple of minutes. Ziva had been out running for an hour, after all. So...looks like you figured wrong. You're gonna have to let this one go,” he narrowed his eyes as he watched the gears turn in Tony's head. In that moment, Sam didn't want anything more than to do for Tony what he'd just done for him...

11 00 11 00 11

Gibbs was in the middle of washing the glasses he'd brought up from the basement once everyone had gone off to bed for the night, when he realized Castiel was watching him from the living room doorway. “Somethin' I can help ya with?” he asked.

“No,” Castiel replied. “But if there is something I can help you with, I wouldn't mind doing so.”

“You offerin' to do dishes?” he smirked.

“If that would help.”

Gibbs shook his head, “I think I've got this. But thanks.” The angel turned his head, focusing on nothing, really. Gibbs glanced over at him, “Somethin' on your mind?”

“Always. A great many things,” he looked back over at Gibbs. 

Gibbs smirked again, “Anything particularly pressing at the moment?” he elaborated as he dried his hands on a small towel. 

“The intentions of Hel,” he replied. 

Before Gibbs could respond, there was a knock at the door. He looked down at his watch before glancing up at Cas with a bit of apprehension. “I'm not expecting anyone. It's late.”

“The man at the door means you no harm,” Castiel told him. 

Hesitantly, Gibbs made his way to the door and opened it. “Leon?”

“I just sent my wife and kids to my mother-in-law's,” the director told him. He looked a bit past Gibbs to Castiel who stood behind him, then back to Gibbs. “Your angel friend convinced me you're not a bunch of lunatics.”

“It's a bit late, Leon. Ya couldn't tell me this over the phone?”

“Guess I needed to convince myself I was actually awake. And I suppose...to make sure you were up. I'm revoking the order for evaluation. You and your team are free to use the office. But I wanna know everything, Jethro.”

Gibbs turned his head to look at Castiel. “What do you need to do to him so he can come in here?” 

11 00 11 00 11

It was dark. The cemetery was bathed in moonlight, but only enough to see silhouettes of the gravestones and statues. The cool night air caused a fine mist as it hit the warm earth below it.   
One of the statue's silhouettes began to move... It wasn't a statue at all. It stood from its crouched position on the gravestone, holding its arms out beside it, then opened its eyes. They were white; glowing at first.   
Then it lifted its arms. Below it, the earth in front of the gravestone began to move; pulsate. Something was pushing up from underneath. It broke, and a hand pushed its way up out of it, grabbing, clawing at the dirt...

McGee sprung upright from where he'd been lying asleep; breathing fast from the frightening vision in his dream.   
“Wha's wrong, Probie?” Tony said groggily as he was pulled from his own sleep. The first rays of sunrise spilled in through the window.

“I think I...” he started, but his voice shook, causing him to take a moment to collect himself.

Tony sat up and put a hand on his shoulder, “What is it? You okay?” he asked with concern. “Nightmare?”

Tim looked over at him with furrowed brow, “I think I saw Hel...”


	3. Chapter 3

“Why am I having these visions in my dreams?” Tim asked as he sat at the kitchen table with Tony, Gibbs, Sam and Castiel. 

“Chances are,” Castiel began, “Your possession with Loki or Jormungand left you with some kind of spiritual residue from their world. Your vision could be a portrayal of things to come; events that Hel has envisioned.”

“Or a glimpse of what she was doing while she was doing it,” Sam suggested.

“Well what good is that?” Tim scoffed.

“It could prove useful,” the angel said.

“Useful if it's a premonition, maybe,” McGee looked down at his cup of coffee.

“Either way,” Gibbs interjected, “We might be able to track her this way.”

“What about whatever zombie she just created?” Tony narrowed his eyes.

“She will keep them close,” Castiel told them. “And chances are, she will raise more than one.”

“Perfect,” Tony laughed nervously. “So, we're what, now? Fighting a zombie-apocalypse?”

“Depending on her intentions, it is possible,” the angel replied.

“So uh...” McGee nervously fingered the mug, “How do we kill them? Is it like in the movies where you have to...take off their heads?”

“Shooting them in the head is just as effective,” Sam supplied. “But, unlike most zombie movies, they're not slow. You're not gonna be able to easily out-run them.”

The room fell under a considerable silence as the agents contemplated what they'd been told. Then Tony looked at Sam, “So what's the plan? How do we even begin to find Hel?”

“Assuming Tim's vision was a premonition, we need to figure out what cemetery she's gonna go to.”

“It was old,” Tim said. “One of those cemeteries with statues and stuff.”

“There's a lot of old cemeteries around here, McGee,” Tony said. “We could be driving around all day.”

“No,” Gibbs replied calmly. “McGee, you'll take Abby an' Ducky over to NCIS and go through the database to see if you can find anything familiar.”

“Boss,” Tony argued, “Vance said we're not allowed back there-”

“Vance had a change of heart,” Gibbs told him. “We'll have his full cooperation from now on.”

Tony gave him an incredulous look, “When did this happen? Are you sure he's not...possessed or something?”

“He is not under demonic control,” Castiel replied for him. “He simply needed convincing.”

Sam furrowed a brow at the angel, “What'd you...” he paused after he thought about it for a moment. “Oh...”

“What if it wasn't a premonition?” McGee asked; nervousness thick in his voice as he looked up at Sam. “What if she's already begun to raise the dead?”

“Then you'll be lookin' for reports of grave desecration,” Gibbs supplied. 

“But...the zombies?”

“Well, it can't be too hard to spot them in a crowd, right?” Tony asked.

Sam shared a glance with Castiel. The angel replied, “It's not certain how they will appear. Her power in combination with the demonic forces that brought her here have not previously been witnessed.”

“So they could look like everyone else,” Tony surmised. “People could be in danger...” his gaze drifted toward Gibbs.

“Then we need to work fast,” Gibbs said. “I'll go wake Abby and Duck.” He stood from the table and made his way toward the stairs.

“What're we gonna do?” Tony asked.

“Get to know our opponent better,” Sam told him. “Bobby brought a ton of ancient Norse mythology literature from his place when he came up here. Guess it's time to put it to some use...”

11 00 11 00 11

Covenant House...

Brianna Matthews stepped into the women's restroom and went straight to the sink. She was tired; tired of waiting. And she missed her friends. She wondered if what she'd agreed to was really going to work.  
She turned the water on and splashed in over her face a few times before blindly reaching out for a towel. After patting her face dry, she gazed at her reflection, then gasped when she realized someone was standing behind her...  
Without turning around, she spoke, “I was beginning to worry you weren't coming.”  
The figure behind her moved closer; something that could only be described as an image within black smoke. It, too, was a woman. But half of her profile wasn't there; simply blank, only made up of the smoke that seemed to be her embodiment. 

Brianna watched the reflection as Hel's ghostly hand reached up from where she stood behind her, and grazed gently fingers across Brianna's jawline, “Such a beautiful creature,” she whispered. Hel admired the girl's soft features; flowing blonde locks of hair and fit figure. “Worthy of being my vessel. But very impatient.”

“I know it's not been very long,” Brianna replied shakily, “But it's been hard dodging all the questions with the police. They nearly discovered this,” she said as she raised her shirt to reveal the ouroboros tattoo on her abdomen.

“It will be worth the trouble,” Hel promised, “When I am with you. We will be so powerful,” she smiled.

Brianna returned the smile, “I am yours...”

11 00 11 00 11

The basement was relatively quiet, aside from an occasional stretch of information one of the six home-bound members of Castiel's team came across and shared aloud with the rest of them.   
Bobby and Dean were seated comfortably on the older man's cot; their backs leaning against the shelving behind them as they shuffled through endless pages. Dean had generously offered his hammock to Ziva; mostly because he liked the way it made Sam all nervous and red-faced whenever she'd grin in his direction. And since Sam was sitting in his own hammock, it was pretty much unavoidable. Every time Dean glanced up from his book, he couldn't help but smirk at how hard Sam was trying to concentrate on the book open in his lap.  
Gibbs and Tony sat on saw horses and had their books open on the work bench in front of them. “Boss, you think these...demon-god-things have a taste for McGee?” 

When Gibbs looked up from his book to his agent, he realized Tony had probably spent a better amount of time running that question through his head, than he had reading through the book. Glancing at Tony's book, he confirmed that assumption; he'd barely gotten through the first few pages. “A taste for McGee?” he questioned as he met his eyes again.

“Ya know...like they're targeting him or something? It's just...with his super-power vision thing now... Being possessed by Loki might've been a chance thing. But they purposefully sought him out for Jormungand. And now he's seein' into Hel's head. What if...” his eyes darted around somewhere in the air between them, “What if she has some kinda access to his head? I just...I guess I just feel like maybe he's in more danger than we might be.” 

“He's not by himself,” Gibbs reminded him. 

“Yeah but...Ducky an' Abs aren't really the best choice of bodyguards, boss.”

“He was supposed to be theirs,” Gibbs narrowed his eyes, but realized what his agent was saying. 

“Could be right,” Dean said and they both looked over to him. Dean looked over at Castiel who was sitting on the steps. “Hey, Cas... Think you can zap over there an' keep an eye on McGee?”

“If that's what you wish for me to do,” Castiel said as he stood. “Although, I don't believe he is in more danger than any of the rest of you.”

“Call it a precaution,” Dean smirked. “We've got all kinds of hoo-doo crap protecting this house, anyway. Besides, you'll find something interesting to look at in Abby's lab. Unless, of course, the crack in the paint you've been starin' at is more entertaining.”

“There's no crack in the paint,” Gibbs retorted calmly.

Dean shot him a defensive look, “Just a figure of speech, sir...” and ended it with a nervous smirk. Sam pulled Dean's attention when he softly chuckled. “What's so funny?” the older brother asked.

Sam looked at him briefly, then shook his head, “Nothing.” Gibbs raised an amused brow before looking back at Castiel, or rather where he'd been standing.

“I think I may have found something,” Ziva said. “There is mention of a sacrificial summoning. And that those who have sacrificed themselves will be the first risen to serve...”

11 00 11 00 11

“I haven't been able to find any reports of grave desecration,” Ducky said as he exited Abby's office through the glass doors into the lab. “Of course, it's more likely that it wouldn't be discovered right away. Especially not in an older cemetery.”

“I think I've been through photos of just about every cemetery in a thirty-mile radius of D.C and I haven't seen anything familiar,” McGee sulked. “Maybe it was just a stupid nightmare my mind conjured up.”

“Part of me kinda hopes you're right,” Abby said before cocking her jaw.

“But you're not,” they all spun around at the sound of Castiel's voice.

“Does that ever stop being completely creepy?” McGee asked in a slightly elevated tone, heart thumping in his chest at the sudden appearance.

“According to Dean, no,” the angel replied.

They were interrupted from responding, when McGee's cell rang. He glanced at the I.D before answering. “McGee.” As he listened, he turned back to the computer and began typing. “Well, I'm pretty sure they haven't even been buried yet,” he said into the phone. “That either makes what you found wrong, or this premonition is...days in advance. The burials are scheduled for Thursday.” Abby and Ducky shared a curious glance. “No, we haven't found anything yet. And yes, I'll call if we do... Okay,” he ended the call. “That was Tony,” he said to his colleagues. “Apparently, Hel is supposed to raise the people who sacrificed their lives in order to summon her, before anyone else. Assuming she plans to raise more...”

“Well, this is good, right?” Abby asked. “I mean...that gives us more time. We can totally drive around and look for the cemetery if we have to. She could just be laying low or something.”

“Or...” Tim looked down in thought, “She could be traveling,” he suggested as he met her eyes again. “Who's to say she has to stay here in D.C to wreak havoc?”

“Like you just said, Timothy,” the doctor replied, “She must raise the sacrificed first.”

“Yeah. But,” he turned back to the computer, “One of the women are being delivered out of town to a family plot just outside of Norfolk.”

“Well...great,” Abby frowned. “How do we know who she plans to raise first, out of the six?”

“And how, pray tell, does a demon-god travel?” Ducky queried...


	4. Chapter 4

“So she's just gonna sit around and do nothing 'til Thursday?” Dean made a disbelieving face. “For some reason, I highly doubt that.”

“Nothin' much else we can do besides wait for some indication of activity,” Tony supplied. His hands went to his temples; fingers rubbing circles, “But this...is giving me the beginnings of a migraine.”

“You've barely read anything,” Gibbs scoffed. “Too busy thinkin'.”

“That's exactly my point, boss,” he defended. “Trying to concentrate on black and white pages while sorting a thousand thoughts flashing into my head, which by the way, I can't really stop, is psychologically draining.”

“You are certain it is not another 'vision-headache'?” the concerned Israeli questioned.

Tony let out a small laugh, “Yeah, that's all we need is my father's ghost causing shit again, right?” Ziva's gaze faltered slightly. “No, Zi,” he clarified anyway, “It's not a vision-headache. No where near that bad...yet.”

“Here,” Dean tossed him a bottle of Aspirin he retrieved from his bag.

“Thanks,” he replied, catching it with ease. “I'm gonna go upstairs and grab a water. Want anything?” 

“It's just about lunchtime,” Gibbs said as he checked his watch. “I'll come up with you and you can take a study break by helpin' me fix somethin' for us all to eat.”

“Great, I'm starving,” Tony exaggerated as he leapt up to follow his boss up the stairs. “I think there's still enough ziti left over to reheat. An' I can make a salad.”

“How much of that stuff did you order?” Gibbs shook his head.

“I like to be prepared, boss,” he grinned.

“When it comes to food, yeah, I'd have to agree on that,” Gibbs smirked.

“Hey, I'm a very prepared person,” he defended. “Never go anywhere without my knife. You taught me that,” he smirked. “You taught me a lot of preparedness stuff, boss. 'Course, a lot of stuff I learned on my own. More of a 'natural consequence if you don't' type of thing. Food being the one that sticks out in my mind at the moment.” Gibbs glanced over at him in question as he pulled the ziti from the fridge. “I got banished to my room a lot when I was a kid,” he explained with a smirk, “Most times I'd get locked in there for hours on end. If I didn't hide snacks in there, I'd go hungry. And trust me, when my father was throwing his parties, smelling the food that was served made it impossible to ignore hunger pangs,” he let out a small laugh as he set the oven to preheat.

“That actually explains a lot,” Gibbs said with a smirk as he pulled out several items for making the salad. 

“Yeah, who needs Boy Scouts, right?” he replied as he pulled out a cutting board and set it on the counter. 

11 00 11 00 11

“You wanted to speak to me in person, Agent McGee?” Vance asked as he entered Abby's lab.

“Yes, sir,” Tim replied as he stood from his chair in front of the computer. 

“What did you need?” he asked as he looked around the room, seeing Castiel sitting on a stool in the far corner under the window.

“I was hoping you could...uh...have the agency keep an eye and ear out for anything unusual. More specifically, grave desecration. I don't know how much you know, sir, but...this would be extremely helpful.”

“I can make that happen,” he told him. “What did you find out about this thing you're lookin' for?” he stepped further into the lab and closed the door to keep out prying ears.

“Well,” Tim began, taking in a breath before he continued, “It seems Hel plans on raising the members of that cult at Covenant House. Apparently, it's a pre-written rule or something. She's gotta do that first, before any others. So, after the burials on Thursday, that's when we need to keep an eye on those specific sites. But one of them goes just outside of Norfolk, so we're gonna need to go there, too. We've gotta catch her in the act or we may not be able to track her down otherwise.”

Trying not to allow that information to phase him, Vance decided to ask a pertinent question, “If you do find it, do you know how to kill it? Or...whatever it is you need to do get it out of here?”

“That much we're still working on,” Tim replied. “In fact, that's what everyone else is doing; research.”

“Theoretically,” Abby jumped in, “Castiel could full-on pulverize her if he got his hands on her. But the chances of us being able to preemptively lay a devil's trap in exactly the spot she would end up in are pretty slim.”

“Not to mention,” Ducky added, “The possibility that we may not find her in the midst of her work. She may very well have a prepared location with scribes, just like with the Loki-demon, in which Castiel could not enter.”

“Hopefully we'll be able to find an incantation of some kind,” McGee stated. “It would at least slow her down enough for Castiel to get to her.”

“And if not?” Vance questioned.

“Well...we have the option of using the colt,” he replied.

“But it'll kill the vessel,” Abby reminded him.

“It will. But if we have no other choice, that's at least an option...”

11 00 11 00 11

McGee decided to make a trip to get groceries with Abby, Ducky and Cas, before heading back to the house. He was getting tired of the ziti. Even though it was good, having it every day was a little off-putting.   
After bringing the bags into the kitchen and setting them on the table to be put away, Abby and Ducky retreated to the showers and let Tony, Dean and Ziva assist in helping Tim put the groceries in their proper places.   
“I take it you didn't find anything,” Tony said as he stuck a few items into the fridge.

“Not a single photo that looked familiar,” Tim replied. “But it's not like there are extensive photos of cemeteries online. I'd have to actually walk through them to be sure. I know what cemeteries the cult members are being buried at, so I guess I could go check them out and see where exactly she's gonna start.”

“I will go with you,” Ziva said. “We can have two teams; cover both cemeteries and take pictures so that you do not have to go to both.”

“Whoa, hold on,” Tony interrupted. “Ziva, if you're goin' with Tim, you're takin' Castiel with you, at least.”

“And Bobby,” Dean added. “Tony, you and Gibbs can team up with me an' Sam to scope out the other one. But in all honesty, I think we need a little more intel on this whole thing.”

“Well, that'd be nice,” Tony replied, “But the only intel we have is from McGoo's dreams.” 

Tim looked up to find everyone was suddenly looking at him. “There's...no way I can just go to sleep right now, guys,” he defended with a slight smirk as if they were insane.

Without warning, Castiel approached him. “I believe I can assist with that,” he said before reaching up and touching Tim's forehead. Tim collapsed immediately to the floor.

“Cas!” Dean threw his arms out to the side in frustration, “A little warning maybe?”

Castiel pursed his lips and furrowed his brow at Dean before looking down at the agent who was now sleeping on the floor. “Perhaps I should have told him to lie down first?”

11 00 11 00 11

Covenant House...

“Lazarus and his two sisters, Mary and Martha, were friends of Jesus.” Karen Lively, the Pastor's wife, read aloud the Bible story to the group that gathered in the reading room. “When Lazarus fell ill, his sisters sent a message to Jesus, 'Lord, the one you love is sick.' When Jesus heard the news, he waited two more days before going to Lazarus' hometown of Bethany. Jesus knew that he would do a great miracle for God's glory and, therefore, he was not in a hurry.”  
In the back of the room, sat Brianna. She listened intently to the story, though her eyes wandered among the others in the room.   
“When Jesus arrived in Bethany, Lazarus had already been dead and in the tomb for four days. When Martha discovered that Jesus was on his way, she went out to meet him. 'Lord,' she said, 'if you had been here, my brother would not have died.' Jesus told Martha, 'Your brother will rise again.' But Martha thought he was talking about the final resurrection of the dead.”  
Brianna's eyes turned smokey for just a moment. But when she blinked, they returned to normal.   
“Then Jesus said these important words: 'I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in me will never die.' Martha then went and told Mary that Jesus wanted to see her. Jesus had not yet entered the village, most likely to avoid stirring up the crowd and calling attention to himself. The town of Bethany was not far from Jerusalem where the Jewish leaders were plotting against Jesus. When Mary met Jesus she was grieving with strong emotion over her brother's death. The Jews with her were also weeping and mourning. Deeply moved by their grief, Jesus wept with them.”  
She'd never heard the story before. Her head cocked to the side as she devoted her undivided attention to the woman in the front of the room.   
“Jesus then went to the tomb of Lazarus with Mary, Martha and the rest of the mourners. There he asked them to remove the stone that covered the hillside burial place. Jesus looked up to heaven and prayed to his Father, closing with these words: 'Lazarus, come out!' When Lazarus came out of the tomb, Jesus told the people to remove his grave clothes.”  
Brianna stood from her chair and quietly escaped to the bathroom. “What are you waiting for?” she looked up into the mirror at her reflection. “Why haven't you brought them back yet?” It was Brianna in the reflection, but Hel was in control of every other part of her.  
“I'm not bringing them back, Brianna,” she told her.  
“What?” Brianna gaped.  
“I have free will here,” she explained. “And my will is not to raise them.”  
“But...we were promised...”  
“Not by me,” she said calmly. “What is it to you that they should return? They weren't really your friends.”  
“We did everything we were told to do!” she argued.  
“Told by a demon; not by me. You summoned me here for power. You have it now, through me.”  
“Power you're not even using!” she scoffed.  
“I'll be using it. People will rise; just not the ones you'd thought. And once they begin to see, they'll have no choice but to let me stay here.”  
“This wasn't how it was supposed to be,” Brianna's voice cracked. “You were supposed to raise them up and take Tammy's body. I was supposed to be free and given power as my reward!”  
“I like this body,” Hel retorted in a monotone voice as she admired her reflection. “And I'll keep it. If you cannot accept that, I can arrange for you to no longer be aware, if that is what you so wish?” Brianna began to cry. “Go ahead; let it out, dear. No one can hear you.” In a final attempt, Brianna screamed. Hel smiled...

*~.~*

McGee sprung upright on the couch from his dream; eyes wide and breath hard. “He is awake,” Castiel's calm voice sounded somewhere beside him. Gibbs and Tony came into his view only moments later.  
“You okay?” Tony asked as he sat on the arm of the couch.  
“I don't think they're premonitions,” Tim told him, then looked to Gibbs, and then to Castiel. “I think I'm just seeing what's happening as it happens.”  
“What makes you say that?” Gibbs queried.  
“Well I...the dream started out in the middle of a Bible study at the Covenant House,” he explained. Tony shot a glance at their boss. “Hel is possessing a young woman; blonde, maybe 5' 8. I think she called her 'Brianna',” he squinted as he tried to recall details. “She seemed to be a willing vessel. Or was.”  
“What's that mean?” Tony asked.  
“I think the girl was part of the cult. She was arguing with her because Hel strayed from the plan to resurrect the sacrifices. Tammy was supposed to be the vessel once they were brought back, boss,” he said as he looked up at him. “But she wants to stay in Brianna. And she has some kind of plan to ensure she can stay.”  
“If she's not gonna raise the kids,” Tony said, “Then how do we know where to look?”  
“If they're not premonitions,” Gibbs said, “Then she's already brought someone back.”   
McGee's cell went off in his pocket. It took him a moment to realize what the noise was, before retrieving it. “McGee,” he answered.  
“Got a call in from an agent,” Vance's voice sounded on the other line, “Says he overheard talk about someone messing with a grave at Rock Creek. Thought he'd call me, but he hasn't checked it out. Figured I'd let you do that.”  
“Thank you, sir,” he said before ending the call. He swallowed, then looked up at Gibbs, “Grave desecration at Rock Creek.”  
It happened that Dean walked in at that moment. “Just so happens Bobby just got a call from a local friend who works at Oak Hill,” he said. “There's a disturbed grave site, but he's not sure what did it. It's pretty fresh, though. She could still be around.”  
Tim stood, “I'll go to Rock Creek with Ziva.”  
“Take Bobby and Cas, just to be safe,” Dean said. “We'll team out like we discussed earlier. The rest of us will go to Oak Hill once we've got something to take with us. In the meantime,” Dean handed McGee his shotgun, “If you find any zombies, remember to aim for the head.”

11 00 11 00 11

“What is it exactly that we need to take, now?” Tony asked as he impatiently paced the basement.  
“Something to fight Hel with,” Sam told him. “Something to hold her, anyway.”  
“Screw Hel, man!” Tony exclaimed, “We should be out there takin' out zombies before D.C turns into an all-out 'I Am Legend'.”  
“First of all,” Dean interjected, “Technically, 'I Am Legend' was a medical mishap of epic proportions. This would be more like 'Night of the Living Dead', if anything. Secondly...” his gaze shifted a bit as he thought, “...secondly, it'd probably be better to hold off on zombie-killin' 'til we at least have the cover of night.”  
“Doesn't that kinda give them the advantage?” Tony asked, an incredulous look pasting his face.  
Dean cocked his head as he realized Tony might have a point, then looked over at Sam. Sam scratched the side of his head, “Look...let's give Bobby like...ten more minutes. If they find the site and it's the one Tim saw in his dream, then we can at least verify whether or not he's actually seeing something that's happened. In the meantime, this might actually be a lot faster if I wasn't the only one looking for something we can use...”

11 00 11 00 11

McGee stalked across the cemetery lawn, Bobby and Ziva trailing just behind him on either side, and Castiel a bit further behind them.   
“Does this look familiar, McGee?” Ziva asked.

“Very,” he said as they continued to walk. After a few more steps, something flashed in his mind. It was like a photograph; the world around him turning for a brief moment into what he'd seen in his dream. Then it was back to normal; daylight once again washing over the scene before him. “It's just up ahead, I think,” he said as they continued.  
But as he approached the site, he realized that this place was familiar for more than one reason. It wasn't just familiar from his vision...he'd been here before...  
Not wanting to believe this was the right site, he squinted to read the headstone that sat upon the open earth of the grave. All the blood rushed from his face as he read the name. “Oh my god...”

11 00 11 00 11

“We've got the colt,” Gibbs said impatiently. “So if she happens to be there, we've got it covered. Let's just go.”  
After sharing a glance, the Winchesters decided he was probably right. Sam closed his book and stood from the saw horse.

“Finally!” Tony exclaimed as he headed up the stairs before the rest of them. As he reached the top, he barely made out the faint knocking at the front door. Cautiously, he readied his weapon at his side as he made his way to the door.   
With the knowledge that he was safe and that nothing and no one else could cross the threshold into the house, he opened the door. The person standing there in the doorway, caused Tony's heart to sink in his chest. He could literally feel the blood draining from his face and his gun slipped from his hand to the floor with a clunk. She was dirty and looked scared out of her mind; eyes red-rimmed like she'd been crying. She seemed just as surprised to see him.   
Tony stood silent for a moment, if only to find his breath. His heart was pounding in his chest and he had to reach out and hold the door frame to keep from falling over.   
“Kate?...”


	5. Chapter 5

“Tony...” Kate Todd searched her former partner's eyes. Tony was in a state of shock and disbelief. Kate was killed...years ago, right in front of him and Gibbs on a rooftop. A single sniper shot to the forehead; her blood splattered all over Tony's face before she dropped. He still had nightmares... “Tony, I don't understand what's happening,” she explained. “I was buried. Somehow, I dug myself out. It was dark, and I walked for...God, I don't even know how long until I got to my apartment. But someone else was there. He was coming out just as I'd turned the corner. And everything...everything's different, Tony, what's going on?” her fear was genuine.

“DiNozzo, back away!” Gibbs voice sounded behind him. 

Tony spun around but didn't move away as Gibbs' drew his gun and aimed. “No, boss! It's Kate!” his voice cracked.

“That's not Kate, Tony,” Gibbs told him as Dean and Sam took positions beside him.

“Of course it's me!” Kate said. “What are you talking about, Gibbs?” 

Tony didn't turn to look at her, but he saw the sudden faltering in Gibbs' eyes at the sound of her voice. “You can't kill her,” Tony said in a low voice. Gibbs flinched. “Kate, go get in my car.”

“Tony-”

“Go, Kate!” he yelled, stooping down to get his gun. Kate did as she was told; Tony never taking his eyes away from his boss's. 

“What're you doing, Tony?” Gibbs asked as he lowered his weapon.

“I can't let you kill Kate, boss,” he said in barely a whisper.

“Listen, man,” Dean said, “Whoever you think she is, it's not her. Not anymore.”

“I don't care,” Tony retorted, then shook his head. “You find another way...” with that, he stepped outside, closing the door behind him.

“What is he doing?” Sam asked.

“I dunno, but we can't let him go off on his own,” Dean said. “Especially not with 'living-dead-girl'.”

“Her name's Kate,” Gibbs told him.

“Yeah, I heard.”

“She was on our team,” he turned to look at them. “She was an agent. And she was our friend.”

Dean considered him for a moment and took a breath, “Okay. Then, I'll take care of it.” He headed toward the door just as they heard the screeching of tires. The three of them, then, bolted out the door to see Tony tearing down the street away from the house in his Mustang. “You gotta be kidding me...”

“We've gotta go after him,” Sam said as he headed toward the Impala. Dean and Gibbs followed suit as Gibbs' phone went off in his pocket.

“Yeah. Gibbs.”

“Uh, Boss...” McGee's nervous voice sounded on the other line. “We found the grave. You're not gonna believe this, but...”

“It's Kate's,” he supplied.

“H-how did you-”

“Get to the other grave site Bobby's friend told 'im about, McGee. Somethin' came up we've gotta take care of,” he ended the call as they shut the doors once inside the car. 

11 00 11 00 11

As they sped toward Tony's apartment, Kate kept glancing at Tony. She wasn't sure what the hell was going on or what Gibbs had meant by aiming his gun at her; why Tony had said he wouldn't let him kill her. Obviously, she'd missed something. But Tony was quiet. Too quiet. The look on his face, even now, was filled with determination and...something she couldn't really identify because she'd never seen it on him before.  
When Tony's cell wouldn't stop ringing, he decidedly put it on silent. He was going to protect Kate, no matter what Gibbs had to say about it. So, there was no use in answering his calls.

“Are you gonna tell me what the hell is going on?” she asked, finally.

Tony glanced at her then back to the road, blinking rapidly as if he'd just come back to the realization that she was there. “Just...” he paused, not really knowing what to tell her. “Just let me know if you suddenly get a craving for red meat, okay?”

She furrowed a brow at the haphazard smirk that came with the statement. As she examined him a bit closer, she noticed lines in his face that hadn't been there before. In fact, he looked different...really, all around. “You look older, Tony,” she said aloud.

“Yeah, well,” he grinned, not looking away from the road, “It's been a few years, Kate.” He pulled into his parking lot and cut the ignition, quickly getting out of the car. 

“What do you mean?” she asked, following him as he quickly made his way up the stairs. He didn't answer. “Tony?” He fished his keys out right before they got to his door and fumbled to get the door open. As he pushed his way inside, encouraging her to hurry in as well, she turned in the middle of his living room, “Tony, what the hell do you mean, 'It's been a few years'?”

She was caught off guard as he threw his arms around her in a bone-crushing embrace. “I'm so sorry, Kate,” his voice was so broken, she didn't know how to respond, but to return the hug. “I'm so, so sorry...” 

“You're scaring me...” she said in barely a whisper.

“If I could've saved you, I would've...done anything...” he sniffled and she could feel tears soaking through the shoulder of her shirt. “What's the last thing you remember? Before waking up in the ground?” 

Kate blinked at the question. Then she let out a small laugh, “Other than you insisting you were fine to come back to work, even though you were clearly not over your recovery from the plague?” 

Tony smiled on her shoulder despite himself. Then he felt her pulling away. As he released her, he sought her face. She seemed afraid, suddenly, as her eyes darted around nervously. “Kate?”

“I'm not supposed to be here,” she met his eyes with unshed tears. “On that rooftop...Ari...”

“Yeah.”

“I'm dead.”

“Well, you were,” Tony let out a small, nervous laugh. “You look good, by the way. For being in the ground for a few years...”

She shook her head in addition to the incredulous look on her face, “Well, I guess it's comforting to know some things never change, DiNozzo.”

“Lots of things did,” he told her in a soft voice; his grin fading completely. “We've missed you.”

Kate's gaze faltered in thought, “How am I here? How am I alive?”

“That's uh...” his nervous grin reappeared, “That's kinda hard to explain, really...”

“Try me.” Her Gibbs-glare hadn't suffered from the long slumber, Tony assessed.

“You've been resurrected by a demon-goddess,” he told her. “Gibbs was gonna kill you because..well, you're kind of a...creature feature zombie-chick. Minus the decomposition and missing limbs, of course.”

Kate snorted before bursting into a fit of laughter that had her doubled over. “You- you've expanded on the humor, Tony,” she said amidst the huffs of laughter. “Is it possible you've been hanging around McGee too long?”

Tony joined her laughter for a few moments, “Guess it's possible. Only...I'm not joking.”

She slowly straightened; laughter slowing though the smile remained, “Okay...I think I get it. I was just grazed along side my head and I'm lying comatose somewhere. Probably Bethesda. I'm guessing this is all some strange, neurotic dream that's most likely induced by some crazy story you're probably sitting at my bedside telling me.”

“God I wish that were true,” Tony said as his laughter died and he was only left with a sad smirk. 

Kate and Tony spent several long moments standing there in awkward silence as Kate seemed to process what she'd been told. “Let's say, for a minute, that I believe you,” she started. “Why don't I feel the desire to...eat your brains, or whatever it is zombies are supposed to do? And why do I look like this; normal?” she indicated to herself. “And most of all, why are you trying to protect me?”

He couldn't answer her because the door was suddenly busted open and Gibbs, Dean and Sam came rushing in with weapons drawn. Tony threw himself in front of Kate, “No!”

“Tony, you need to back off!” Dean yelled.

“She's not whatever it is you think she is!” he retorted. “She's not dangerous!”

“Tony...” Gibbs warned.

“No, boss,” he shook his head. “No one's takin' her out. Not like this. She's not a damned zombie. She's just Kate.”

“But she could change,” Sam told him.

“Well, until she does, you don't touch her!” Tony argued. Tentatively, the three men slowly began to lower their weapons. Tony turned to Kate, “Go into my room, Kate. Stay there while I talk to them.” Without question, and with a noteable fear in her eyes, she nodded and escaped to the bedroom, closing the door behind her. 

Tony turned back around just as Gibbs stepped up to him, and the older against head-slapped him, “Don't you ever run off on your own again! You know the damn rules! Anything could've happened.”

“I'm sorry, boss...I just couldn't...”

“That's another one. Not to mention not answering your phone!”

“Boss...” he clenched his jaw as he searched Gibbs' eyes. “What're we gonna do?” he asked in barely a whisper. “We can't kill Kate...” his eyes shifted slightly to look at the Winchesters who stood idly where they'd come in the door. Then he looked back at his boss.   
To anyone else, the man would've seemed calm and collected. But Tony knew better; Gibbs was just as lost on this one as he was. And of all the stupid zombie flicks Tony had seen in his lifetime, and all the telltale red flags and stupid ideas he knew by heart; even remembered shouting at the screen when someone did something so stupid...like this very thing... there was still no way he was gonna let anyone touch her while she was still her.  
Gibbs patted Tony's arm, then turned to go into the bedroom. As he visually scanned the room, he wiped a hand down his face. He walked further into the room, finding her sitting on the floor up against the bed; her knees pulled to her chest as she slightly rocked back and forth. When she caught sight of Gibbs, she scrambled away to until her back hit the nightstand.

“It's okay,” he assured her; his brow furrowing as he noticed the tears streaming her cheeks. 

“Says the man who had a gun aimed at my head twice now,” she said, then sniffled.

Gibbs smirked at her fully intact snarkiness. But the smile faded quickly and he made his way toward her, slowly, and sank to the floor to sit beside her. A few moments of silence passed while Gibbs allowed memories of that day of the rooftop to play in his mind. “I'm sorry, Kate,” he told her. “For everything...”

“You're breaking one of your own rules, Gibbs,” she glanced at him with a small smile playing on her lips. “Besides, you're supposed to kill zombies, right? Can't really let them roam around-”

“Not for that,” he shook his head. “For you gettin' killed protecting me.”

She really looked at him then. “Wow, Gibbs...You and DiNozzo have really been carrying this around all this time?” He gave her a questioning look. “Tony I can understand; he's insecure and he's harder on himself than even you are. But you? I can't believe you've managed to continuously convince yourself that you're somehow to blame.”

“You were my protection detail, Kate. That's all the facts I need.”

“I was assigned the job, Gibbs. If I remember correctly, you didn't even want protection.” She smirked at his small laugh at her comment. “That's what I did before you hired me, remember? I mean...of course you do. But honestly, Gibbs,” her voice softened, “Taking a bullet for the President wouldn't have been the way I wanted to leave this life.” Gibbs' reddened eyes met hers again, apologetically. “Taking one for you, however... though it might not have made the ten o'clock news, I don't think I could've asked for a more honorable reason to die.”

Gibbs swallowed and shook his head. Kate didn't die for him. Ari targeted her. She died because of him. But telling her that wouldn't help her, and he certainly wasn't going to take that feeling and crush it. “Dyin' in place of me isn't any good reason. You were young. You were a good agent, Kate.”

“I still am,” she smiled. “All of this was yesterday to me, Gibbs.”

Gibbs returned the smile, if for nothing more than to match the warmth he felt from seeing hers again, “I don't think I can get you your job back,” he laughed.

“Yeah, I guess that'd be kinda hard to get through HR,” she grinned. “Although, being presumed dead would make for great starting pay back in Secret Services.”

“Not even back a day, an' you're worryin' about findin' work?”

She smirked at his question. But soon her gaze shifted slightly away from him and her smile faded. “If I do become something dangerous,” she told him, “I mean if this is actually real; any of it...You have my full permission to pull that trigger, Gibbs. You know that, right? I don't want to hurt anyone...”

Gibbs looked at her for a long moment before putting an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a half-embrace, “You won't hurt anyone, Kate,” he told her, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Even if he had to do as she'd suggested...


	6. Chapter 6

“Boss, this grave site doesn't look like the other one,” McGee told him over the phone. “It looks more like it was dug up, than dug out of.”

“Name on the tombstone?”

“Someone called Ronald Woolstone. Died in 1922.”

“Can you see if the body's missing?”

“The grave's been filled back in, boss.”

“Call Vance; have him okay an excavation. I wanna know if we need to be on the lookout for someone else, now. You an' Ziva head back to NCIS; find out what you can on this guy. But first, drop Bobby an' Castiel here at Tony's apartment.”

His first instinct would've been to question why he was at Tony's. But instead, he asked, “What about Kate? Shouldn't we...be looking for her?”

“Got that under control, McGee. Just get them over here,” the call ended.

Tim shut his cellphone as he tried to decipher what Gibbs might've meant by that. The thought of one of them having to kill Kate...well, that was just flat-out wrong. This Hel chick was one sadistic bitch, so it seemed...

11 00 11 00 11

“I don't get it,” Dean said in a hushed voice to his brother. They stood in the far corner of Tony's kitchen, looking at the two agents and their zombie-friend who sat in the living room. “What's wrong with this picture?”

“Besides the fact that she's not foaming at the mouth and trying to eat us?” Sam quipped. “Maybe this isn't typical reanimation, here. Hel is a demon-god. Maybe it works differently? Maybe she's just...alive.”

“What the hell would be the point in that, Sam?” he retorted. “No way. The Hel-bitch is just toying with them. She wants them to suffer; have to kill their own friend. Kate is either gonna turn and she'll end up killin' someone and that's all we're gonna need to start an all-out Zombieland. Or she'll turn and if they're fast enough, they're gonna have to kill her. Either way, doesn't look good for them at all.”

“Okay, first off, Zombieland was started by a quickie-mart burger infested with mad-cow disease. Secondly, you don't know that she's gonna turn at all, Dean.”

“I thought you fell asleep during that movie?” Dean quirked a brow.

“I did. Probably ten minutes after that part.”

“I don't get how anyone falls asleep during a movie that good...”

“I don't get how you were entertained watching a movie with content that's pretty much the theme of every single day of our reality.”

“Dude, how often have we gotten to hunt zombies?” Dean held questioning hands out on each side.

“That's not the point. We hunt monsters..Pretty much the same thing.”

“It's not the same thing at all! And not even once have we gotten to meet Bill Murray.” Sam cocked his head to the side and furrowed his brow. “See! If you'd stayed awake, you'd know what the hell I'm talkin' about.”

Before Sam could retort, there was a knock at the door. The two of them moved to the doorway leading off of the kitchen as Tony got up and looked through the peephole. Without hesitation, the senior agent opened the door, stepping back to let the four expected visitors inside.   
“Just wanted to show them to the right place,” McGee said as he and Ziva stood at the door after Castiel and Bobby entered. That's when Tim caught sight of her. He nearly toppled to the floor had Tony not been there to steady him. “K- Kate?” 

“Whoa there, Probie,” Tony calmed him. “She won't bite.”

Kate looked over at the sound of her name. “Tim...” she stood from the couch and started slowly toward him. 

“I...I...” Tim stumbled over something he wasn't even aware he'd begun to say.

“Still have such a way with words, I see,” Kate smirked. 

“Actually, you'd be surprised,” Tony grinned at his former partner. “Probie here actually wrote a successful crime novel, believe it or not.”

“Wow,” she raised her brows at McGee. “I'm impressed. And you look...really good, by the way. What'd you catch a tape worm or something after I left?”

McGee seemed to not even have heard what Tony or Kate had said, “It's good to see you, Kate. This...this isn't what I'd...expected to see.”

“Oh,” she snorted, “Right. I should be decaying and falling apart, I heard. Guess I should thank whoever did the embalming, right?” McGee's brow furrowed at her. Her grin faded. “Too soon for jokes?”

“Little bit,” Tony replied for him.

“C'mon,” she smiled at Tony, “It's been like...not even a day in my time. I thought it was pretty funny...”

“What's...going on?” Tim looked at Tony for answers. Ziva stood idly by, knowing who this person was, but feeling oddly displaced among the crowd. She glanced over as Gibbs approached.

“We're not sure,” he told him, then turned to Castiel. “Is there a way to protect her; bring her to my home?”

“Gibbs, you can't bring me into your house,” Kate argued. “We have no clue whether or not something will happen with me. I'm not gonna put you all in danger.”

“It doesn't matter, anyway,” Castiel told him. “She won't be able to come inside. The protection charm is specifically linked to souls, and she doesn't have one.”

“What?” Kate and Tony asked in unison.

“Hel raised you,” he told Kate, “Your body and consciousness. But your soul remains in Heaven. Your inability to recall the time leading from your death is proof enough of that, if you don't believe me.”

“Who are you?” Kate asked.

“He's an angel, Kate,” Tony told her. “Just trust us on this.”

“If we can't bring her with us, how can we protect her?” Gibbs asked.

Castiel reached out and placed a hand on Kate's chest. A faint glowing triggered an indescribable and quick burst of pain, causing her to yell out.   
“What did you just do?” Tony raised his voice as he held Kate's shoulders to steady her.

“That will keep her hidden,” he told them. “It's an Enochian sigil. You'll be safe as long as you stay here.”

“She shouldn't be here alone,” Tony said.

“For more reasons than one,” Dean piped in as he and Sam approached. “If she does turn, we won't be able to find her very easily.”

“I will stay with her,” Ziva said. They turned to look at her. “I can take care of myself, and if it becomes necessary, I will not hesitate.”

None of them had any doubt of that. “But you'll be unprotected, in the meantime, Zi,” Tony told her. “What if Hel shows up?”

“Then I will call and Castiel can return here. We can lay a devil's trap. This could actually be an opportunity,” she replied.

Dean glanced at Sam for a moment before turning his gaze back to the unsure faces of the team. “She could be right. If Hel is lookin' for an opportunity to find one of you alone, she might take it.”

“If we do this,” McGee said, “We need to set up an open line of communication. There may not be time to make a call if she does show up. Tony, where's your computer?” 

11 00 11 00 11

Teaming up, McGee, after setting up the laptop, left with Bobby. Sam and Dean took the Impala, of course, and Tony and Gibbs were the last to head out. This was mostly because Tony was having a hard time leaving Kate.   
Eventually, Gibbs convinced him to get a move on. They had work to do, and answers weren't going to find themselves. Not to mention, it had somehow become late. For some reason, the darkness of night seemed to take on a whole new meaning for them. Maybe it was because of the fact that darkness wasn't just something that lurked in the hearts of men; a force they'd dealt with on countless occasions over the years; locked away behind bars.   
No. This darkness was something that was always there but had never been so obvious to them before the Winchesters came to be in their lives. Not that it was their fault. It didn't follow them there. They were here to stop it, and the team was damned lucky for that. There was really no telling what might have happened if the NCIS MCRT had continued their investigation into the murder-suicide. Hell, they might have all ended up dead by now, for all they knew.  
But there was something undeniably more creepy about nightfall, now. Having the proven knowledge that such things exist is far more terrifying than the unknown. Far more than the feeling you get after coming out of the theatre after watching a horror film, and it's dark outside, and for that short journey home you find it impossible not to be at least a little paranoid that whatever creature was on that screen could jump out in front of you at any moment. Or that few minutes you wake up in the middle of the night after a particularly gruesome nightmare, when you can't, for the life of you, think of another moment you've ever been so scared; heart racing; breathless and shaky...  
Yeah, this...this life was much scarier. There wasn't the escape of going to the living room and putting on some late-night comedy hour on the television to draw your mind away from the scary thoughts. There wasn't that moment of realization that it was so stupid to even be scared in the first place. There was no calm.   
“You sure you're okay to drive?” Gibbs asked from the passenger seat of Tony's Mustang.

Tony smirked, “'Course I am. Besides, I don't think my stomach can handle your particular style of driving tonight, boss. No offense.” Gibbs quirked a brow. “Not that I'm...afraid for my life or anything. I know you'll get us home in one piece...more or less. But I really don't wanna throw up on the upholstery.” He pulled out onto the street before glancing at Gibbs, who was still appraising him.

“Doubt you've got anything in you to throw up, DiNozzo.”

Tony let out a small chuckle as he reached back for his seat belt, “You'd be surprised. My stomach will figure something out.” He yanked at the belt a few times, “What the heck...” he glanced for just a second to see why I wasn't budging. 

“Stuck?” Gibbs asked.

“Caught in the door, I think,” he replied. That's when he happened to glance in the rear view mirror. “Uh...Boss,” he warned. “Six o'clock,” he indicated. Gibbs turned in his seat to look behind them. Sure enough, there was a large SUV quickly gaining toward them. Both of them held their breath for a moment, hoping it was just some idiot in a big hurry that might try and go around them. But, as they'd partly expected, the car bumped the back of them. “Hang on, boss,” Tony said before gunning forward to try and lose the tail. 

As they sped through an intersection, Tony was grateful there wasn't much traffic out that night. “Who do you think is following us?” he asked Gibbs.

“Can't exactly make out the plates,” Gibbs replied sarcastically.

“Think Hel got her driver's license?” he laughed. Gibbs ignored the comment. “I'm gonna call Dean; see if they're still on the road,” he said as he pulled out his cell.

“You drive,” Gibbs took his phone, “I'll call.” He dialed the number as Tony took a sharp right-hand turn, fishtailing a bit before regaining control and speeding up. He watched as the SUV sped around the corner with ease and continued after them. “Dean, it's Gibbs. We've got someone on our tail tryin' to run us off the road. How far off are you?” Gibbs shouted into the phone.

“Just pulled up to the house,” Dean's voice sounded on the other line. “Any idea who's tailin' you?”

“Nope. But whoever it is, doesn't like us very much and they aren't easily shaken... Tony, look out!” Gibbs shouted as a car appeared out of nowhere several feet ahead of them. Tony slammed on the brakes, but it was too late...

11 00 11 00 11

“Gibbs?” Dean shouted into the phone when he heard the crash. “Gibbs! You there?You okay?”

“Dean, what happened?” Sam asked 

Dean turned to look at his brother in the passenger seat, “I think they just wrecked... We need to go back. Whoever did this might try and finish the job...”

 

11 00 11 00 11

Gibbs wasn't out for very long. His head hit the side window somehow and it had momentarily dazed him. But he quickly gained his bearings and looked over to and empty driver's seat. “Tony?” he meant to call out, but his throat seemed uncooperative. His gaze fell upon the windshield, mortified when he realized Tony must have gone through it.  
Gibbs ripped off his seat belt and crawled out the shattered window on his side. The car they'd hit wasn't occupied. In fact, it seemed it hadn't been at all. Not even a set of keys in the ignition.   
He kept walking, and when he got through the smoky steam that was still flowing from the car, he saw Tony's body sprawled out on the concrete. “Tony!” he quickly sprinted toward his agent and dropped down beside him. “You hear me, DiNozzo?” he shakily reached over Tony's body, which was face down and sickly twisted, and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him to turn him over.

Tony let out a painful groan and Gibbs couldn't help but feel the tiniest bit of relief that his friend wasn't dead. But as he got him turned over, he realized that the bloody mess of a state his agent was in, he realized he might not be too far from it.   
Tony's eyes opened and focused on Gibbs. “Bo...b...boss,” he choked out; blood spilling from the corner of his lips as Gibbs held the agent's limp body in his arms. “Sh...shoulda let...you drive,” those bloodied lips curled into a smirk.

“Don't talk, DiNozzo,” Gibbs shook his head. “Help's on the way.”

“Help is already here,” a feminine voice sounded and Gibbs looked up at a young, blonde woman standing ten feet away from them. “Your friend is going to die,” she told Gibbs. “But I can bring him back.”

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, “You're Hel,” he surmised.

“I believe the people here prefer to call me 'Brianna'. I must admit, the name is growing on me.”

“You caused us to wreck in the first place,” Gibbs said as sternly as he was able at the moment. “Why help us now?”

“Because, I want to stay. I want a deal. Since you hid my game-piece, I had to create a new move.”

“What kinda deal are you talkin' about?”

“Like I said, I want to stay. I like this place,” she looked around and up at the stars. “Back home, I am a prisoner; a ruler in a world that exists purely for the dead. All because people are afraid of me. Does that seem fair?” she looked back down at him. “All I want is to stay; for you to stop hunting me, and you may keep she who I have risen, and I'll bring your friend back from where he is about to go.”

“Boss, no,” Tony used all of his strength to grab hold of Gibbs' arm and get his attention. “No...don't do this.” 

“Tony...”

“Not gonna...be the...” he couldn't finish as his body began to wrack with coughs; blood spilling faster from his mouth. Gibbs held onto him as the feeling of helplessness seemed to take him over. 

“He's close to death now,” Hel told him. Gibbs looked up at her with anger. “You can make the decision now, or, as I have grown to be a very patient woman, you can come and find me later. He will still be dead, after all.” Her head turned further up the road as if she could sense something coming. 

“Promise...” Tony pulled Gibbs' attention once more, “Promise me you won't,” came out like a gurgling moan. “Not from her...”

Gibbs frowned. “I must go,” Hel said, bringing his attention back up to the demon-god. “I'll know when you wish to find me.” Gibbs was in a sudden state of panic as the woman ran off. His eyes darted around in indecision before finally settling back on his agent. 

Tony's breathing now came in short, shallow bursts. But his eyes still focused clearly on his boss's. Gibbs held him tighter, “You will not die, Tony,” he said through gritted teeth as his voice cracked.

“'M s..s'ry...boss...” his body shook with his final breaths, and then went still in Gibbs' arms. Tony's grip on Gibbs' sleeve loosened and his hand fell to the street below him.   
Gibbs wanted yell out; curse the heavens; scream...anything. But he couldn't find it in himself to even try. Not even so much as a sound to accompany his sorrowed breaths as he picked Tony up further in his arms, holding him against his chest as he willed himself to believe...this wasn't the end.  
It couldn't be. He knew that, somewhere deep down inside. Things weren't the way they'd always been; not for them...not anymore. Death wasn't death. Not for Castiel's army. Somewhere deep inside, he knew that. But, being the perpetual pessimist he was, he couldn't quite place his hope completely in that corner. Facts were facts. And the fact right now was that Tony DiNozzo was dead in his arms. Dead...

11 00 11 00 11

“Oh shit,” Dean exclaimed as they spotted the agents in the road ahead.

“Is that...”

“Sam, call Cas... Tell him to get here, right now!” Dean said as he threw the car into park and got out. He all but ran to the two men that had become like his second family. “Gibbs...”

The older man looked up at him, “Tell me he can fix him.”

“God...is he...” Dean knelt down beside the obviously broken body in Gibbs' arms.

“TELL ME HE CAN FIX HIM!” Gibbs shouted. 

Dean swallowed as he appraised Gibbs' face. He wasn't sure the agent was even aware of his own tear-streaked face. “I'm sure he can,” he told him. “Sam's callin' right now...”

“Okay,” Gibbs reinforced his hold on Tony's body. “Everyone else get home okay?” his voice and face softened.

“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “You okay, Sir? You were in the car with him...”

“My belt was on,” he replied vaguely. But Dean understood immediately and he looked over at the wreckage. 

“What happened?” Castiel's voice boomed from behind them.

Dean stood, “Someone was tailing them.”

“It was Hel,” Gibbs told them. “She wanted to make a deal.”

“What kinda deal?” Dean asked as Sam approached the scene.

“You bring him back; then we'll talk,” Gibbs ordered.

“I need to know what Hel told you,” Castiel insisted. “This could've been planned...”

“We didn't take the damn deal!” Gibbs shouted. “She offered to bring him back in exchange for letting her stay! Tony refused to let me make the deal.”

“Where did she go?”

“She drove off! Who cares? Just...bring him back!” Gibbs yelled. 

“Did she say anything else?” 

“Listen! We've done everything you've asked us to do!” The fury in Gibbs' voice was clearly evident. “This is your army! Your hunt! And Tony turned down help for the sake of all of it! You will help him, now! You don't leave one of your men behind... Not when you have the power to save him...” Gibbs pleaded.

“Cas, what're you doin'?” Dean queried the angel.

Castiel looked to Dean, “This could be a trap. Hel may have set up some kind of loophole. When Tony is raised, she could have some type of binding power to us that makes it impossible to banish her.”

“Think about this for a second,” Sam said. “Why would she have gone after them? Why not us? Cas, I don't think she even knows you're here, or she might not have made this kind of offer.”

“Sam's right,” Dean said. “If she wanted to trap us, she'd be here right now. I think she's as blind as we are on this. She lucked out running into them, and took an opportunity while she had it.”

“And if you're wrong?” the angel asked.

“Doesn't matter if I am,” he scowled. “You don't get to leave him like this because of a hunch, Cas. If I'm wrong, we'll figure out how to fix it. But you're not leavin' him like this.”

Castiel looked down at the two agents; one lifeless and the other sitting somewhere on a thin line between desperation and homicidal rage. Sam's jaw nervously clenched and unclenched as his gaze shifted from Castiel to Tony, then back again. Then to his brother.   
Then, finally, Castiel reached out his hand...


	7. Chapter 7

Castiel's hand paused mid-air. “Not here,” he told them. “If Hel really doesn't know about me, then we should get him back to the house before I do this.”

“Let's go then,” Gibbs said as he moved to stand, lifting Tony with the help of Dean and Sam. 

“Go open the back door, Sam,” Dean ordered. The younger brother complied, and Gibbs made his way to the car, handing Tony to Dean so that he could slide into the back seat before Dean could hand Tony back to him. “Here,” Dean handed the keys to Sam, “Drive,” he told him before slipping into the back seat as well. 

Sam furrowed his brow for just a moment before getting into the driver seat. It was a rarity, indeed, for Dean to hand the keys over. As all members secured themselves into the car and Sam started up the engine, he was for sure why Dean had. It was hard to see Tony this way. It was hard to see anyone this way. But the Winchesters had grown close to Tony in this short time they'd known him. The guy was awesome; there was no doubting that. And Gibbs...well, seeing the state he was in at the moment was near heartbreaking. As stoic as the man had always seemed to be, they could tell that this was causing him immense pain.   
In fact, it was possible that Gibbs was also in physical pain. He had, after all, been in that same car when it wrecked. There was really no telling at this point whether or not all that blood on him was solely from Tony.  
“Sir, were you hurt in the accident?” Sam asked, glancing at him in the rear view mirror.

“I'm fine,” he replied too quickly. “Someone call McGee; tell him to get everyone down to the basement. There's no need for them to see Tony this way. And tell him to call Vance and have him set up a tow to get Tony's car brought back to my place. He's gonna need to cover up this accident somehow...” 

“I'll call him,” Dean said as he fished out his phone. 

11 00 11 00 11

“Okay, I can see you. You see me?” McGee said as he waved a hand in front of the webcam lens on his laptop.

“I can see you,” Kate smiled on the screen. 

“Great. Looks like we're good to go then.”

Ziva appeared beside Kate in that moment, “McGee, is Castiel with you? He left abruptly without saying much. Only that he was needed.”

McGee furrowed his brow, “No, he's not here... But Dean and Sam turned around in the driveway and took off. Maybe he went to help them? Come to think of it...Gibbs and Tony should be back by now...” His cell rang, as if on cue. He turned from the screen to answer it. “McGee.”

“Tim, we need you to get everyone down to the basement,” Dean's voice sounded from the other line.

“Okay,” he stood, “Honestly, I think I'm the only one not downstairs. Is uh...is Castiel with you? Ziva said he left-”

“Yeah, he is. Listen, Tim,” McGee could sense a nervousness in the man's voice as he spoke, “Gibbs wants you to call Vance.” He explained what needed to be done and gave the intersection where the accident took place. 

 

“Wait...they wrecked? Are they- is everyone okay?”

“Just make the call...we'll be there soon,” the call ended. 

“McGee!” Ziva's voice sounded from the computer and Tim rushed over to it. “What happened? Who wrecked?”

“Tony and Gibbs,” he replied. “But they didn't give me any details. Castiel is with them, so they must be okay, right?” his eyes shifted around, nervously. “I've gotta make a call...hold on,” he stood and dialed Director Vance's cell number.

11 00 11 00 11

McGee had just ended the call with Vance when he saw the Impala's headlights pull into the driveway. Granted, that's all he could see through the frosted living room window. He made his way to the front door and opened it to verify. What he saw shocked him, to say the least. Gibbs and Dean were carrying Tony's bloody and battered body from the car. Sam made it to the door first. 

“Is he...?”

“It's gonna be okay,” Sam assured him. “Come on, let's give them some room,” he led him away from the door toward the living room.

“You weren't supposed to be up here to see this, Tim,” Gibbs said as they came into the house. Sam closed the door behind them.

“I was...on the phone with Vance...” Tim stumbled over his words as he looked at the lifeless body of his partner. 

“Cas, can ya get on with it, already?” Dean insisted as Gibbs lowered to the floor, still holding onto his agent. Castiel moved beside them and reached his fingers to Tony's forehead. 

Tony sucked in a deep breath immediately as he sprung to a sitting position. He looked around the room in confusion; eyes finally landing on Gibbs, “How'd we get here?”

“A car,” he answered, simply, as he helped him to stand. 

“Castiel?” Tony turned to the angel. “Thank you...but you should get back to Kate now. I don't know what Hel has planned for her...” he didn't need to say anymore as the angel vanished before them.

“Are...” McGee started, “Tony, are you okay?”

Tony furrowed a brow, then grinned, “Well yeah, Probie. I'm fine,” he looked down at himself. His clothes were in shreds and soaked in his own blood. He considered this for a moment. “Guess I should change,” he looked up with a smirk. “Maybe take a shower,” he looked over at Gibbs, “Not necessarily in that order.” He appraised his boss's state; his own clothes covered in blood, as well as his arms and hands. “You okay, boss?”

Gibbs nodded slightly, before his face took on a green tint and he took off toward the trashcan nearest them in the kitchen. As he heaved what little was in his stomach, Tony shared a nervous glance with the Winchesters and then McGee. Then he turned back to Gibbs and took the few steps toward him to put a hand on his shoulder, “Boss?”

“I'm fine,” he said as he spit into the can.

“Should we get Cas back here?”

“I said I'm fine, DiNozzo,” he stood and looked at him. “Ducky can take a look at me, if it makes ya feel better. Otherwise, I'll live.” He grimaced as he looked Tony over again; reminded by the blood, how they'd lost him not long ago. “Go clean up. And don't use up all the hot water; I've gotta take one after you.”

11 00 11 00 11

Ziva and Kate sat side by side on Tony's couch, staring at the screen that had just shown the frightening display with Tony. Though Ziva had witnessed Tim being brought back after having been torn apart by Fenrir not so long ago, seeing Tony that way had been unnerving, to say the least. But Kate was the first one to speak.  
“So that guy really is an angel...”

“Yes,” Ziva replied. 

“And Tony... h-he was dead, before he...”

“It would seem so, yes,” she replied. 

“He was dead,” Castiel's voice only slightly startled them at this point. He was standing in the doorway to the kitchen. 

“How?” Kate asked him.

“It seemed that Hel caused them to crash their vehicle,” he explained as he walked into the room and took a seat in the armchair across from the couch. 

“I don't understand,” Kate shook her head, “Why try and kill just Tony? Why bring me back? It doesn't make any sense.”

“From what Agent Gibbs told me, it would seem that she was trying to force a deal. She would bring him back, in exchange for allowing her to stay. At this point, we have to assume she is unaware of my presence. As well, she seems to no longer be aware of yours.”

“What do we do now?” Ziva asked. “Should we not be out trying to find her? She could try this again with someone else.”

“Once they have some time to cool down,” Castiel said, “I'll return to the house to inquire Gibbs about the specifics of the deal. For now, however, we are uncertain as to how to capture her. And if she's unaware that you're here, Kate, she will most likely not show up in this place to be caught.”

11 00 11 00 11

“You seem to be alright, Jethro,” Ducky said after giving him a short examination where they sat in the kitchen. “You were lucky to come away with just a bump on the head and a case of nerves,” he indicated toward the trashcan with a tip of his head. 

“Tony's belt was stuck in the door,” he told him. “Looks like he was unlucky all around.”

“Not all around,” Ducky quirked a brow. “Let's not forget the angel on his shoulder.”

Gibbs glanced at Dean who came to sit at the table. “Didn't get a chance to thank you,” Gibbs told him. “I'd started to think he really would've left him there.”

“Yeah, well,” he smirked, “No need to thank me. Sometimes Cas just needs some sense knocked into him. Really, we should be apologizing to you. I feel like this is our fault... Us comin' here pretty much put all of you in danger. Just...sucks, and I'm sorry.”

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at him, “You comin' here helped us, far as I recall. And if I remember correctly, it was more fate than anything. To think you two have been doin' this kinda thing alone for so long... I don't know how you've managed.”

“Don't get me wrong,” he let out a small laugh that in no way reached his eyes, “But all that fate and destiny crap, I've never been a big fan. Especially when good people get hurt along the way.”

“Don't forget,” Ducky chimed in, “You're saving people in the meantime.”

“Well, tell me somethin',” Dean leaned forward a bit on the table, “Was it worth losin' Kate, to catch a few bad guys?” Both of the older men blinked a flinch. “Would it have been worth it to lose Tim and Tony in order to get these demon-gods?” Dean stood before either of them could even begin to think of how to respond. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair and swung it behind him to pull it on as he turned to exit the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” Sam asked as he nearly bumped into him on the way toward the kitchen.

“Out for a drink.”

“There's drink here.” 

“I just need to go out, Sammy!” he said sternly. “I can go alone, or you can come with me.” With that, he headed for the door.

Sam turned briefly to the men in the kitchen, with a raised brow, “He just needs a minute. I'll make sure we're not out long.” 

Once the front door closed behind the brothers, Tony appeared in the doorway to the kitchen from the hall, “Your answer shoulda been 'yes', boss.”

Gibbs and Ducky looked over to the clean and dressed agent. “I think I'll go check in on Timothy and Abigail downstairs,” Ducky slipped out of the kitchen as Tony approached the table, not taking his eyes from Gibbs. 

“Hunting or not, this is our job,” he continued. “This is what we signed up for. All of us. We put our lives on the line every day, to put away the bad guys and save people's lives. And that's exactly why I told you not to make that deal; if she stays, more people die. If my death assures a hundred people live, or that my team stays alive, then hell yes, I choose death, Gibbs.” Gibbs' eyes shown with pride for his agent, but his chest ached with a dread he couldn't explain. “Besides,” he smirked, “We don't negotiate with terrorists, boss.”

Gibbs returned the smirk and shook his head as he stood to go to the fridge and fetch a couple of beers. “Hard not to be a bit selfish, sometimes,” he said as he handed one of the bottles to Tony.

Tony accepted it, furrowing his brow as he sank down into one of the chairs. “What?”

“It's one thing to be willing to risk your life to save people,” he said as he sat back down and opened his beer. “It's another to watch someone you care about...die, and not really give a rats ass about who the hell did or didn't get saved because of it.”

Tony thought for a few moments, back to that warehouse where Tim had been torn apart by Fenrir. Gibbs was right. It was hard to give a damn about why that was necessary; what had to be done to put away the 'bad guy', didn't really seem to be worth losing someone you cared so much about...  
He looked up at his boss with a smirk playing on his lips, “You care about me, boss?”

Gibbs reached out and head-slapped him. “That flight through the windshield screw up your memory?” he raised a brow.

“It was probably the impact to the asphalt afterward, actually,” he grinned. “But no. It's just...nice to hear it from someone now and then.” His eyes shifted, sheepishly, before meeting Gibbs' again, “Go take a shower, boss. Ya look like crap.”

11 00 11 00 11

“I can't believe you think walking is a good idea, right now,” Sam argued as they made their way around the corner on foot.

“Well, considering Hel has a damn car and she's not afraid to use it, I think it's a helluva lot better idea than driving. There's a little pub right up the street from here. Besides, we got the colt and Ruby's knife from the trunk before we left. I think we're covered. Not to mention, we could use the cardio. We've been cooped up in the house practically the whole time we've been here.” Dean's hands burrowed further into his coat pockets as he hurried their pace.

“I'm just sayin'... this is how a lot of horror movies start out.”

“Good,” Dean scoffed, “I hope the bitch tries somethin'. I'm ready to kill, right now.”

Sam decidedly kept his mouth shut for the rest of the fairly short journey to the pub. It only took about ten minutes to get there. The bar was fairly deserted, aside from a few older men seated unceremoniously around the booths; a few at the bar.   
“Whatever you have on tap,” Dean told the bartender. Sam held up two fingers, indicating he'd have the same. 

“Grab a table, Dean. I'll bring them over.” Dean nodded before heading over to an unoccupied booth and slipping into the side that faced the bar. Sam joined him moments later, setting both glasses on the table before sitting across from his brother. “What's goin' on, man? Why couldn't we have a beer at the house?”

“I told you, Sam; needed to get out.”

“Yeah. Cardio...” Sam took a drink from his glass. “But seriously, Dean. I know that look in your eyes. Something's wrong, and you should talk about it.”

Dean downed the beer in one endless chug before setting the empty glass back down on the table. “I don't have a 'look in my eyes'. I just needed to get the hell outta the house, Sammy. Now can I have a few drinks without the third degree?”

Sam sighed and leaned back in the booth. Suddenly, the bartender was there beside the table with a drink in his hand and he set it down in front of Dean. “Lady at the bar wanted me to give this to ya,” he said.

“Thanks,” Dean nodded and peeked around him to see the luscious young blonde at the bar. “Didn't see her come in,” he smirked. He picked up the drink as the girl turned and smiled at him. He raised his brows and smiled back at her before taking a long drink from the glass. “Maybe this night won't be so bad after all,” he looked at Sam who simply rolled his eyes. But he couldn't help a smirk at his brother's sudden lifted attitude. 

As he finished his drink, Dean's eyes seemed to become a bit unfocused. Sam noticed it right away and grinned. “One beer and one drink, Dean? I think you might be getting soft.”

“Shut up,” he retorted.

Sam laughed, “Maybe we should head back.”

Dean would've protested, but his stomach was starting to hurt. “Yeah, alright.” They both stood; Sam leaving a few bills on the table before turning to follow Dean out. 

The girl at the bar stood and took Sam's arm, leaning in close to his ear, “You know where to find me, when it's time.”

Sam furrowed his brow, shaking the girl from his arm and catching back up with his brother. “Dude, I think that girl might be more smashed than you are right now.” He half-expected Dean to retort with some kind of line suggesting he go back and find out for himself. But he didn't say anything. In fact, he was a bit hunched over as they walked. “You okay?”

“Stomach hurts,” he said and swallowed. “Think you might've been right; guess I'm gettin' soft.”

The hair stood up on the back of Sam's neck as he came to a sudden realization, “How bad, Dean?”

“'M fine, Sammy. Let's just get back-” he stopped mid-sentence and mid-stride, doubling over as he gagged, spewing blood onto the sidewalk.

“Dean!” Sam grabbed his brother around the waist to steady him as he looked about to fall over. “Damnit, Dean, I think that girl...”

“Sonofabitch, it was Hel, wasn't it!” he coughed.

“We need to get you back home,” Sam urged him to continue walking as he searched his pockets for his cell. “Crap... I think I left my cell back at the house.”

“Perfect,” Dean rasped.

“Don't tell me-”

“In the damn car,” he nearly toppled to the ground as his stomach heaved and more blood poured from his mouth, spilling onto the walk. “So much for this night turning out better...” he groaned, painfully...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hurt!Dean inspired by NikaDex. :)

“We've gotta move fast, Dean,” Sam urged as he held his brother steady.

“Don't think I can, Sammy. Hurts...”

“Then I'll carry you!”

“The hell you will!” he forced himself forward, leaning heavily on his younger, but taller brother. His head began to swim, making everything hazy and confusing. He felt as if he'd just run a marathon, or in his case, for his life from hellhounds. And his stomach felt as if that hellhound was tearing through it, now. He crumbled to the ground despite Sam's hold on him and yelled out against the pain. 

“Dean!” 

“Shitshitshit!” Dean cursed against the horrid twisting in his gut. To his horror, he began to heave again. How there was any blood left in his body at this point, was beyond his comprehension.

“I need to get you back to the house, now, Dean!”

“She's killed me, Sammy,” he cried. “I'm gonna die...” he rolled to his side, exhausted from his efforts to even hold himself upright on his hands and knees.

“No, I'm gonna get you home. You gotta let me...”

“Not gonna make it, Sam,” he said, then gritted his teeth before screaming out against a new wave of pain.

“Yes you are,” Sam told him, scooping him up in his arms with ease and barreling down the sidewalk.

“'M too h'vy,” Dean rasped as he gave in to his brother's assistance, curling into his chest to muffle the inevitable groan that accompanied his pain. 

“I've got you,” Sam panted as he continued to run. Tears stung his eyes as he felt Dean's hands clenching onto his shirt; felt the blood soaking through onto his shoulder as his brother continued to heave. “It's not much farther,” he said, in efforts to comfort him. “I don't care how much...you hate it, Dean,” he panted, “You're not leaving... the house again... 'til this is all over.”

Dean's sudden silence and limpness in his arms terrified him, maybe even more than his earlier suffering. Sam stopped and looked down at him. Dean's eyes were heavy and rolling back in his head. “Dean?” Sam panicked. “Dean, talk to me, man!” There was no response. But then he coughed, and it was followed by frighteningly rapid, noisy gasps, as if his lungs, themselves, were seizing. 

His brother's suffering was tearing Sam apart. He took off again, running full-speed toward the house. He could see it in the distance. Just a few houses away...

11 00 11 00 11

“Better?” Gibbs asked as he entered the kitchen after having showered and dressed. The whole gang was upstairs now; Abby and Ducky on the couch in the living room having a light conversation with Kate via webcam; McGee, Tony and Bobby at the table having a beer. Bobby had a book cracked open on the table, which meant he merely came upstairs for a change of scenery.

“Lookin' sharp, boss,” Tony said with a smirk. 

“I aim to please,” Gibbs said with a grin as he headed to the fridge for a beer.

It seemed the whole house broke out in a fit of giggles at the comment, but Tony spoke, “No ya don't!”  
Gibbs held in a bout of laughter as he shut the fridge. But then he heard something; a faint noise coming from outside. He held up a hand to shush everyone. “You hear somethin'?”

They were all quiet. That's when they heard the distant voice of Sam Winchester, “Gibbs!” 

The voice sounded panicked, and Gibbs bolted toward the door; the rest of the household standing ready to assist. Gibbs threw open the door to see Sam carrying his brother up the walk.  
“Get Cas!” Sam yelled. “Hurry!”

Gibbs turned to Abby and Ducky who were already there in front of the computer, and they got the hint. He turned back to Sam as he rushed up to the door. “What happened?”

“He was poisoned with something,” Sam said, “Hel was in the bar...we just didn't realize-” he stopped when he tried to walk through the door. Some force was pushing them back. He tried again, but it was like there was an invisible wall before them. He met Gibbs' eyes in horror and confusion. “Oh no...nonono...”

“What? What's that mean?” Gibbs asked.

“Whatever she's done, he can't get into the house...” Sam's panic visibly doubled.

“Take him around back to the deck,” Gibbs ordered, spinning around to run back through the house toward the patio doors. 

“Boss?” Tony questioned.

“Get some blankets,” Gibbs told him.

“What's happened?” Bobby asked as he followed him out.

“Hel apparently poisoned Dean. Whatever it is, it's not letting him inside.”

“Aw, hell,” Bobby said as he saw Sam carry his older brother up onto the patio. “Sam, what in the hell were you two thinkin' goin' out like that?”

“We didn't know, Bobby,” Sam's voice cracked as he laid Dean down in one of the patio chairs. “It was just a couple of drinks and we were coming back. She put something in his drink...”

“Rookie mistake, Dean,” Bobby said, swallowing as he knelt down beside the distressed, bloodied man. Dean wasn't responsive; by all means, he seemed unaware as his eyes rolled and his breathing continued in the scary, short bursts of shock. “Where the hell is Cas?”

“I am here,” the angel said as he walked out onto the patio. Bobby moved out of the way so Castiel could take his place beside Dean.

The angel narrowed his eyes and he touched his hand to Dean's forehead. “This poison is an element of Valhalla,” he told them. “I can't take it from him.”

“What?” Sam exclaimed.

Castiel looked up at him, “I can heal what damage it's caused thus far, but without an antidote, it will continue to course through him. And without the protection of the house, it won't lie dormant.”

“Wha...what do we do?” Sam panicked. Tony came out onto the patio with blankets in hand.

“I'll do what I can for him, now. Then I'll go to Valhalla. Without transporting someone else, I should be able to return within a matter of hours, at most.”

“Cas, he doesn't have hours,” Sam's voice shook. “This all happened within half of one.”

“Our only other option is to kill Hel,” the angel reminded him. “If we knew how to go about doing that, we'd have done it by now. And if I bring him with me, we wouldn't be able to return for much longer. We don't have that kind of time.” Sam's jaw clenched repeatedly as he looked upon his suffering brother. “I may be able to slow down the poison's effects,” Castiel told him. “At least for long enough until I am able to return.”

Sam looked back at the angel, then to Gibbs, Tony and Bobby. “Okay,” he told Cas. “I guess we don't really have any other choice...”

“As soon as this is done, I'll be leaving. It would probably be best if none of you left before I return.” It all happened within moments; Castiel healed Dean, then disappeared. Sam explained to his brother the situation. Bobby gave him the necessary amount of crap for having gone out and gotten himself into that kind of trouble; not leaving out the fact that he had been an 'idjit'. Dean took the criticism without complaint; he deserved it, after all.

“I think the natural consequence is sufficient punishment,” Sam defended.

Bobby cocked his head, “Yeah. Guess you're right.”

“So...” Dean interupted, “That's all gonna start over again?” he looked up at Sam.

“Cas said it'd be slower this time,” he replied. 

“Great...” he dropped his head and sighed. “Might wanna get me a bucket or somethin', I suppose. Don't wanna stain up the deck.”

“I'll find ya somethin',” Bobby said. “Just let us know what ya need.”

“Maybe Ducky can give him something so the pain isn't so bad?” Sam suggested.

“I'll go get him,” Gibbs said before turning to go back into the house. 

Tony set the blankets down in another chair and sat down beside them. “Well...at least it's not raining,” he smirked, trying to lighten the mood. To Sam's surprise, Dean let out a small laugh, which inevitably caused Sam to do the same. “I've got a portable dvd player upstairs if you wanna use it to pass the time. I think I even have Ben Hur and Dances With Wolves; either one would probably get you through 'til Cas gets back.”

“Think I might be more in the mood for a comedy,” Dean smirked.

“Okay,” Tony looked off a bit to the side in thought. “I think I've got Monty Python and the Holy Grail and uh...Blazing Saddles.”

“Dear god...no,” Sam shook his head, “I won't hear the end of the quotes for months.”

“Monty Python!” Dean exclaimed. “Haven't seen that in years...”

“Sorry, Sam,” Tony grimaced slightly. “Sick guy gets first choice. I can bring you your laptop?”

“Hell no, Sammy,” Dean said. “You're watchin' Monty Python with me. That way, when I make the references, you'll get it, instead of thinkin' it's just annoying.”

Sam rolled his eyes, but he was smiling anyway. Tony stood, “I'll be back in a minute.”

As he passed through the living room, McGee stood, “Hey... Is he gonna be okay? I heard Gibbs explain what happened when he talked to Ducky.”

“He's in for a fairly crappy evening,” Tony told him. “Is my dvd player still upstairs?”

“Uh, yeah. On the dresser with your ridiculously large amount of dvds that you haven't even touched since we've been here.”

“They're there in case they're needed, Probie,” he said as he resumed toward the stairs. “And right now, they're needed.” He caught sight of Abby crouched curiously in front of the laptop on the couch and he paused. “She talkin' to Kate?” he asked quietly.

Tim smirked, “They haven't stopped since you got back. Now Abby's determined to be the third set of eyes while Castiel is gone.”

Tony nodded. “Walk with me, McGoo,” he said as he headed up the stairs. Tim furrowed a brow and followed behind him. “Ya think Ziva's in danger over there?” he asked as he walked into their room.

“Uh...well, I think she can take care of herself if s-something happened,” he replied nervously. “Why? Do you?”

“I think Kate isn't gonna become dangerous at all,” he told him as he shuffled through the dvds.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Hel said she was a game piece. I think Kate is supposed to be a bribe to let Hel stay here. Ya know, some incentive or...blackmail, if you will. Like the mob payin' off the cops.”

“Like what she tried to do with you. And now with Dean.”

“Exactly. She's trying to sweeten the pot. Albeit, she's just poking the bear. Obviously she's an amateur; a brat with power. Like if Paris Hilton was a god.”

“Maybe more like Nicole Richie,” McGee corrected. “Paris Hilton is kinda sweet.”

Tony looked over at him with raised brow and a smirk, “Touche.”

“What're you looking for?”

“Monty Python...oh! Here it is. Giving Dean and Sam something to pass the time with,” he said as he scooped up the player and movie. 

“Is there anything I can do?”

“Yes,” he stopped in front of him. “When it starts to get bad, try and distract Abby. Maybe you can move shop down to the basement, since it seems they won't be using it tonight.”

Tim nodded; eyes shifting momentarily at the morbidity of the situation. Then the two of them headed back downstairs. By the time Tony got back out to the deck, Ducky was explaining to the brothers how to administer the pain killers. It was brief, since Dean was already familiar from when Sam was so ill after Jormungand attacked him.   
“Anything else you may need, please don't hesitate to ask,” Ducky said as he stood.

“Thanks, Ducky,” Dean told him. Sam gave him a small smile and nodded as the doctor brushed past Tony and patted the agent's arm.

Tony set the player down on the small patio table and slid it over to sit beside Dean's chair. “The battery is fully charged. Should last five hours, at least,” he opened the player and put the dvd in. “Just press play when you're ready. Need me to get you anything? Somethin' to drink?”

“Not for me,” Dean said. “Anything I drink is gonna end up in this bucket,” he smirked. 

“Gibbs brought me a couple bottles of water,” Sam told him. “And Bobby's bringing out a couple of pillows for Dean. I guess we're good for now.”

“Okay,” Tony put his hands in his pockets. “Well, if you need me for anything, just yell.”

“Thanks,” Dean said as he reached out to start the movie as Sam slid his own chair up against Dean's and settled in beside him...

*~.~*

“Wow, no more boat?” Kate said on-screen as McGee carefully set the laptop on the workbench. “How'd he even get it out of there?”

“A secret not even we have been privy to,” McGee replied with a smirk. 

“I think he burned the one that was down here, that you'd seen,” Abby said as she settled onto a saw horse within view of the cam.

“The one I've seen? You mean...there's been more than one?”

“All I know is there's been four altogether,” Abby told her. 

“The one he burned was from before our time, Abs,” Tony said from the stairs as he descended.

“Tony!” He could hear Kate's grin before he could even see it. “Agent David and I just had a really lovely conversation about you.”

“Oh really?” he smirked devilishly as he approached the screen to see both women in view.

“Tell me, DiNozzo... Why is it that, whether or not anyone really wants to, we all end up seeing you naked at some point?” Kate's statement caused him a slight tinge of embarrassment, but he hid it with a well-trained laugh.

“It's part of my charm, I suppose.”

“I haven't seen him naked,” Abby chimed in with raised brows and a hint of amusement on her face.

“Consider yourself lucky, Abby,” Kate told her. “Apparently, since I last caught a glimpse, he's gotten the nickname...what was it again?” she looked at Ziva.

“My little hairy butt,” the corner of Ziva's lips turned up as she looked at the screen.

Kate laughed, “Oh yes! So you've gotten hairy, have you?” she asked as she looked back at the cam. “Usually you lose a bit on top before it starts traveling south...”

Tony's face lost expression, “It's not very nice to talk about people's butts behind their backs, ladies. And no, my butt is not hairy!” he exclaimed.

“But it is firm and muscular!” Abby smiled. Tony's expression turned incredulous and his face flushed red. 

“I thought you said you hadn't seen him naked?” 

“Oh, no, I didn't. But I uh...accidently copped a feel once in my lab. You remember,” she glanced to Tony, “When Ari took a shot through my window and...” her sentence drifted off when she realized what she'd wandered into. 

“Ari took a shot at you?” Kate sounded horrified.

“He missed,” Abby looked at the cam, sheepishly.

“Please tell me you got the bastard,” she questioned.

“Yeah, we got him, Kate,” McGee replied. 

There was a long, awkward moment of silence as Tony looked at Ziva's eyes on the screen. “I'm gonna go check in on Dean,” he said. “Feel free to discuss McGee's backside while I'm gone,” he smirked, winked at Tim, then headed up the stairs.

Tim furrowed his brow at Tony before turning to the cam, “Please don't...” but the women were no longer in view. He looked to Abby.

“They went to the kitchen for a drink,” she told him. “I think they wanted a minute to talk...”


	9. Chapter 9

“What is it, Ziva?” Kate asked with a furrowed brow as they sat down in Tony's kitchen.

Ziva had poured them both a glass of wine and was looking a bit apprehensive as to how to begin the conversation. “I...feel that I should tell you something,” she started. “For the sake of the team, and their sudden need to walk on seashells for my sake.”

Kate narrowed her eyes and cocked her head. “I...think you mean 'eggshells'...?”

“What? Oh...right, of course.”

“What do you mean?”

“I came to NCIS as a liason for Mossad,” she told her. “Ari...was my half-brother.” She waited for a reaction from Kate. But Kate just seemed to be waiting for something more to be said, before she looked down at the table top. Ziva was confused. “Are you not upset?”

Kate met her eyes again. “You want me to be upset with you? Or about the fact that Gibbs brought you onto the team in my place?”

“Either...or both, perhaps. Uh...no, I do not want you to be upset at all...”

“Well good. Because I'm not,” she told her.

“What?” Ziva cocked her head.

“You've technically been working with Gibbs now for longer than I did. You should know, as well as I do, that he wouldn't have let you on the team if he blamed you in any way for what happened. Or if you didn't deserve a place on his team.”

Ziva sat there in silence for a few moments as she considered the woman in front of her. Something of a ghost of a smile crossed her face before she spoke, “No wonder it took so long for them to come to accept me,” Ziva told her. Kate gave her a questioning look. “You are a very compassionate woman. I am...” her sentence drifted off as she thought of a better way to word it. “I was raised to be an assassin; compassion is not part of that training. It was often times forced into hiding, in fact. My sister was a compassionate person,” she looked somewhere off to the side in recollection. “But she was killed. My father taught me that compassion gets you killed, in that line of work. He taught me many things that, since I have been here,” she looked back to Kate, “I have realized, were wrong. Not only have I been trained to be an NCIS agent, but on this team...my new family...they have taught me how to trust without being afraid; how caring isn't weakness. And how family is not always what you are born into; but rather, the people...the friends who will forgive you and accept you, no matter what... The ones who do not give up on you.”

“Even Tony?” Kate smirked.

Ziva grinned, “Surprisingly, yes. Although, he probably does not know that.”

“You must be pretty good at undercover for him not to have figured that out.”

Ziva let out a small laugh, “He is a very good detective, and very good at undercover work. But I have had more training in staying silent; one thing I do not believe he could be trained to do.”

It was Kate's turn to laugh, “Well that's the truth, if I've ever heard it!”

11 00 11 00 11

Sam had to admit, if only with laughter, that the movie was proving to be funny. Though he'd only caught glimpses of it in the past, and mentionings of it in the form of quotes from his older brother, it was a bit more funny to hear those quotes in context with the movie itself.  
At some point near the beginning, they'd moved the dvd player onto Dean's lap so he didn't have to twist to see it. Sam was practically pressed up against him beside him in the next chair, leaning a bit to see the screen as well.   
It wasn't until somewhere around a half an hour into the movie that Sam laughed at something and looked over at Dean, expecting the same reaction. But upon seeing his older brother, his smile faded. Dean's eyes were closed and his brow furrowed. He seemed to also be holding his breath.   
Sam sat up, “Dean?” Dean's eyes remained closed, but he let out a noisy breath. “Damnit, Dean, why didn't you tell me you were in pain?” he scrambled for the kit.

“Kinda snuck up on me, Sam,” he defended. “'M sorry... I shoulda listened to you; shoulda stayed home...”

“Yeah, well, I'll be sure to remind you next time,” Sam said as he injected the pain killer into Dean's arm. As he put the kit away, he felt Dean shiver beside him. “You cold?”

“A little,” he admitted. 

“Here,” Sam pulled one of the folded blankets from where Tony had set them earlier, and wrapped it around Dean.

“Can you take the movie player so I can lay on my side for a bit?”

“Yeah,” Sam picked the player from Dean's lap and placed it on his own, and Dean rolled onto his side facing Sam, awkwardly searching for a place to put his head. “Dude, just...” Sam led him to lay in on his shoulder.

“Thanks, Sammy,” he said in barely a whisper.

“Meds helping at all yet?”

“Little bit,” he said.

“Just let me know if you need more, before it gets bad, okay?”

“Kay.” Dean felt stiff against his shoulder. Sam couldn't even allow himself to concentrate on the movie anymore, until he felt his brother relax against him several minutes later. He was fairly sure he'd even fallen asleep, but he didn't dare move.

11 00 11 00 11

Vance pulled into Gibbs' driveway after leading the tow-truck with Tony's Mustang to the house. As the mechanic lowered the broken vehicle, the director made his way up to Gibbs' front door and knocked. It was only a matter of moments before Gibbs answered, cautiously cracking open the door before opening it all the way once he saw who it was.  
“Had a helluva time explaining to Metro PD why there were two abandoned vehicles in the middle of the road,” he told him. “What I couldn't say much about, however, was the excessive amount of blood they found 30 feet away. What the hell happened, Gibbs?”

“Tony was killed,” Gibbs told him. Vance flinched and possibly even paled a bit, unsure of how to reply. “Come in, Leon. Have a cup of coffee with us.”

As Vance walked into the house, he was greeted with silence, where he'd assumed a lot would be going on, considering. He turned to the lead agent, “You seem to be takin' it awfully well.”

“Well I said he was killed, Leon. Didn't say he was still dead,” he told him as he led the way to the kitchen. 

“Hey, Director,” Tony smiled from where he sat at the table. 

Leon straightened. “What's goin' on?” he demanded.

“Like I told ya, he was killed in that accident,” Gibbs repeated as he poured him a mug of coffee.

“Always wear your seatbelt,” Tony said. “'Course, in my defense, mine was stuck in the door...and with the highspeed chase and all, I didn't really have time to get it unstuck.”

“Who were you chasing?”

“We were being followed, actually,” Gibbs said as he handed Vance the mug.

“You put a BOLO out yet?”

“No. And we're not going to. Anyone who pulls over that vehicle is gonna end up dead.”

Vance slowly took a seat at the table as Gibbs did. “So, me covering up the accident...”

“Was to make sure she thinks he's still dead, for now,” Gibbs said. 

Vance sat in silence for a long while as he drank the coffee and pondered Gibbs' words. Then he looked over at Tony. “I take it your angel brought you back?”

“Well, he's not my angel. But yeah...Guess if you're gonna be fighting against forces of evil, it's nice to even out the playing field a bit.”

“So this woman, the one that was chasin' you, she's what you're after now? This...demon-god thing?”

“Yeah.”

“Did you see her?”

“We did. But we don't think it'd be a good idea to draw attention to her,” Tony explained. “At this point, it looks like she's mainly after us. But if someone should get in her way, there's really no telling what she might do. It's best we wait it out.”

“Wait it out?” Vance queried, narrowing his eyes. “Just how long do you think it's gonna take to take her down?”

“Hopefully not much longer,” Gibbs said. “We've been tryin' to find the answer. Doesn't come easy.”

“There's a lot of reading...you're more than welcome to camp out in the basement with us and help out,” Tony smirked.

“As enticing as that sounds, it's been a damn long day. Not that it hasn't been for you all, but I don't have any angels around to perk me up. Besides, I think I'll stick to the cover-up work,” he smirked. “Thanks for the coffee, Jethro,” he said as he stood. “I'll show myself out. Be sure and let me know if somethin' else comes up.”

“Yeah, thanks, Leon,” Gibbs told him before he left the kitchen. Gibbs watched until the door shut behind him.


	10. Chapter 10

Sam wasn't sure when he'd fallen asleep, exactly. But he knew what pulled him back into consciousness, and his eyes flew open at the sound of his brother's retching. Dean had managed to flip over onto his other side and make it to the bucket in time. And Sam could tell he was trying his damnedest to be quiet about it.  
“Dean?” Sam sat up and put a hand on his back.

“S'ry, Sam... Didn't mean to wake you up,” he said before heaving once more over the bucket.

“Didn't mean to fall asleep,” he replied, worriedly. “Do you need more meds?”

“Yeah,” he rasped before wiping his mouth with his sleeve. 

The fact that he agreed so willingly and without hesitation, made Sam realize how bad it must be getting. As Dean slowly maneuvered back to laying in the chair, Sam caught a glimpse of the bloody sleeve and Dean's eerily pale face.   
“B'fore you ask,” Dean said, short of breath, “I was sleepin'. Di'nt realize...”

“I'm sorry, Dean. I should've stayed awake. I didn't mean to fall asleep...”

“'S not your fault,” he said as Sam injected the pain meds. “Meds didn't really do much for the pain, anyway. Took the edge off. Mostly jus' knocked me out for a bit, though.”

“Should we try more this time?”

“Maybe you should jus' gimme all of it,” Dean closed his eyes and clenched his jaw as a wave of pain coursed through him.

“All of it?”

“Yeah, Sammy,” he grunted and turned back onto his side as he began to heave again.

“All of it is enough to kill you, Dean,” Sam said as he placed his hand on his brother's back again, rubbing in effort to comfort him through the heaving.

“'S the point-” he replied with a groan.

“The point is to kill you?”

“Yeah, Sammy,” Dean's body began shaking with the effort to hold himself up, and Sam got up from his chair to move in front of him and help keep him upright. 

“Are you asking me to assist suicide?” Sam gave him an incredulous look.

“Mercy killing,” Dean corrected.

“Assisted suicide, by any other name, is still assisted suicide, Dean.”

“Can't do this again, Sammy...” Dean doubled over; Sam catching him before he could fall completely from the chair and guiding him to lay back against his chest as he held onto him.

“Dean...”

“Please...please, Sammy, don't make me do this again...”

His words tore at Sam's heart and caused tears to sting his eyes. “I can't kill you, Dean.”

“I'm gonna die anyway...Cas will bring me back,” he reasoned.

“Don't do this,” he begged. “Would you do this if it were me? Would you kill me if I asked you to? 'Cause I already know the answer to that...”

“Damnit, Sam,” Dean cried. Cried. Sam couldn't hold back the tears anymore at all. “At least knock me out; punch me or somethin'...” Dean gripped down on Sam's leg beside him as he began to heave again, this time unable to even attempt to aim for the bucket. The blood simply flowed down his chin and down onto his shirt as he leaned back against his brother's chest. The blood reached Sam's arm that held around him. “Please...please, Sammy... Please...”

Sam's face scrunched painfully in anxious indecision. He didn't want to hurt Dean even more. But he didn't want Dean to be suffering either. He turned his head to look into the house. “Tony!” he shouted.

“What're ya doin', Sam?” Dean groaned. 

“He said to call if we needed anything,” Sam said as he watched, and saw Tony jet into the kitchen and toward the patio door.

Upon seeing Dean's current state, Tony paled, turned his head back into the house and called for Ducky, then came out onto the deck. “What can I do?” he asked.

“Convince...Sam to...put me outta my m-misery,” Dean choked out.

“Gonna see if Ducky will sedate you, Dean,” Sam told him.

“Dyin's not s'bad,” Dean rasped. “'S this part that sucks... Ducky... Ducky'll help me.”

“Not sure the doc is into euthanasia, Dean,” Tony narrowed his eyes.

“Anthony is right, dear boy,” Ducky said as he walked out onto the deck, Gibbs tailing behind him.

“The pain meds aren't helping him,” Sam told him. “He wants me to give him all of it.”

“Yes, well, as I said...There will be no more deaths this night,” Ducky knelt down in front of him. “You've already made it this couple of hours. Castiel shouldn't be very much longer. You can manage until then.”

“No...no, I can't, Ducky, please...” Dean cried. “Please...” More blood spilled from Dean's mouth as he gagged and coughed. 

Ducky's brow furrowed in concern and helplessness. “The best I can do is to sedate him,” he told Sam. “However, I'm uncertain what the effects will be in conjunction with this...poison in his system. And you'll need to keep him upright, as he could very well drown in his own blood if he were to lie down. In fact, one of my major concerns is that some of this could be coming from his lungs. In which case, sedation would stop him from being able to bring it up on his own.”

“Jus' do it...” Dean groaned.

“No, wait,” Sam hesitated. “Dean...you could-”

“Sam!” Dean gathered every ounce of strength in him and twisted around in his brother's arms, grasping his Sam's shirt in fists in effort to hold himself there. “Let him do it,” he said through bloody, gritted teeth. His body shook, painfully as he tried to keep his focus on his little brother. “Please, Sammy...let him. Please...please...” his head fell into Sam's chest as tremors took over his body. 

Sam swallowed at the lump in his throat as his arms wrapped tighter around Dean. More tears dripped down his cheeks before his eyes met Ducky's again. “Okay,” he told him. “Just do it...”

Ducky nodded in acknowledgment and looked over at Gibbs who had brought him his medical bag. Once handing it over, Gibbs stood back a bit with Tony as Ducky prepared and injected a serum into Dean's arm. Dean continued to squirm in Sam's arms for a while until the medicine began to show signs of its success.   
“There we are,” Ducky said quietly. “Now let's get him up on the chair and clean him up a bit. Anthony, if you could fetch some towels and warm water...”

“Sure, Ducky,” Tony hurried into the house.

“Lemme help with that,” Gibbs said before Ducky could lift Dean from Sam's hold. Ducky moved out of the way and Gibbs knelt down, meeting Sam's eyes for a moment. “You okay?” Sam took a breath and nodded, then allowed the agent to pull Dean's limp body from his arms.

Sam pushed himself up to stand, and helped Gibbs to arrange Dean on the chair. Then Sam immediately grabbed the blanket and draped it over his brother. Gibbs didn't miss the fact that the younger Winchester's hands were shaking. He reached out and laid a hand on his shoulder until the kid looked at him.  
“Why don't you go inside and get cleaned up,” he told him in a calming voice. “I'll stay here with him; Duck, Tony and I...we'll watch over him 'til you get back.”

Sam gave him an appreciative smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, “I'll be fine. Cas should be back soon...right?” Gibbs nodded as Tony stepped back out onto the deck with a large bowl of warm water and washcloths and a dry towel.

He placed the bowl onto the small table beside the chair and handed a wetted cloth to Sam grazing his hand a bit before pulling away, “You're freezing,” Tony narrowed his eyes.

Sam withdrew his hand, “It's a little cold out.”

“You should go inside and warm up a bit,” Tony suggested.

“I'm fine!” he snapped. “If Dean has to wait out here, then I will too. I'm not leaving him...” he sat down beside Dean on the chair and put the cloth to his brother's chin to begin wiping off the blood. 

“Okay,” Tony said in barely a whisper. He sat on the other side of Dean and dipped another cloth into the warm water.

“I'll go inside and make you some tea, lad,” Ducky told Sam and he turned to go back into the house. Gibbs met a glance from Tony, nodded, then turned to follow Ducky. 

Tony and Sam continued careful cleaning of the bloodied, unconscious man in the chair. But Tony paid close attention to Sam, who seemed greatly disturbed by his brother's predicament. It was justified, of course. They could see Dean's eyes moving rapidly beneath the lids; twitching facial muscles indicating that though he was asleep, he was still in pain.   
There wasn't really anything Tony could say to make Sam feel better, and he knew that. He knew that the fact that Castiel would return and this would all go away, was something Sam was already well aware of. But watching Dean suffer in the meantime...well, there wasn't much any of them could do to comfort either of them.  
Suddenly, Dean's eyes flew open and his mouth opened as if to scream, but nothing came out. No breaths...nothing. Sam grabbed his arm, “Dean?”  
Dean arched his head back and his body lifted impossibly from the chair so that the only parts of him that remained touching it were his head and feet. Instinctively, Tony and Sam moved fast to grab onto him. Then Dean screamed out in pain...  
It started out more like a shriek than anything, then grew into a guttural growl and held there until there was no more breath to squeeze sound from. His struggle caused his shirt to ride up, and exposed the muscles in his stomach as they rippled and spasmed like nothing Sam or Tony had ever seen before. They were fairly certain that this was happening all over Dean's body...the spasming. The pain...

Dean sucked in breath as if he were coming up out of water, gasping for whatever air he could get. “Sa- Sam...” his voice shook violently.

“I'm here, Dean,” Sam told him as he tightened his hold around him.

The older brother's skin was white as a sheet, and when blood began to drip from his nostrils down the sides of his face, it looked an even more sickly shade of red. “H- hur- hurts, S'mmy... please...” Sam cradled Dean's head as he spoke. But Dean's eyes weren't focusing. Instead, they shot around aimlessly into the night sky and he screamed out again as a new wave of spasms enveloped him. “Sam, please!” he shouted.  
Sam knew what he was asking, and he looked to Tony as if he'd had the ultimate answer. But Tony looked just as lost as Sam felt. Both sets of eyes shot back to Dean at the unmistakeable sound of a breaking bone, and Dean shouted out in agony. The spasms had caused Dean's collar bone to crack; they could both see it sickly poking under the skin. 

“Oh god...” Sam swallowed the bile that rose in the back of his throat.

“M-make it...s-stop...please, Sam...please!” he screamed.

Sam met Tony's eyes once again; every worry-line on his face creased; nostrils flaring and eyes spilling over with the knowledge of what he had to do... “Okay, Dean,” his voice cracked as he reached for the pain-killer kit. “Can you hold him?” he asked Tony before releasing his hold on Dean.

“Yeah,” Tony replied with furrowed brow as he watched Sam prepare the syringe. They both flinched when the bones in Dean's arm began to snap, followed by the painful cry. “God what- Have you ever seen anything like this before?” Tony questioned in horror.

Sam shook his head as he pulled the completely filled syringe from the bottle. With one last pained glance at Tony, he took hold of Dean's arm and quickly stuck the needle into his vein. He emptied it within a few moments and removed it from his arm and met his brother's eyes as they began to focus on him, finally. Slowly, his body began to relax from its deathly self-binding, and they were able to lower him back into the chair.  
“Th- thank you...thank you, Sam-my...” his voice grew quieter. 

Sam took hold of Dean's hand with both of his, suddenly overcome by a feeling of dread and regret. “Dean...”

“Gon' be okay, Sm... You'll see... gon' be okay...” his breaths slowed and his eyes began to unfocus and cross.

“Dean, wait....wait...” he panicked as tears streamed down his face. As if he could call 're-do'.

“S'ok...” Dean whispered. And that was the last thing he said...the last breath that left his body...


	11. Chapter 11

“Oh god...” Sam searched Dean's face. His lifeless, unbreathing face... “What have I done?”

“You did what he asked you to,” Tony tried to assure him. Sam looked over at the agent; eyes glistening with whatever tears hadn't managed to escape down his cheeks. “You saw how much pain he was in, Sam-”

“I killed my brother!” he would've shouted, but his throat ached. “I killed Dean...” he stood, abruptly, and leaned over the edge of the deck and expelled the contents of his stomach into the lawn.

Tony approached his side as Sam's short-lived retching died down and turned into quiet sobs. “Sam,” he started, quietly, “I know you didn't want to. But you did it for him and I know he's grateful for it.” He watched Sam's adam's apple bob up and down as his jaw clenched. “Could you have sat there much longer and listened to his bones continue to break? His screams?”

“Tony...”

“No, man...I get it. I do. I get what you're feeling like, right now. But what you did was brave and merciful. I don't think I would've been able to do it; but that doesn't make what you did wrong.”

“Pretty sure there's a law...” he said with a slight hint of his lips turning up at the corners.

“Pretty sure there's an exception to every rule,” he replied without hesitation. “Especially in these circumstances.” 

Sam shook his head and forced himself to look back out at the lawn, and not at his brother. “I...think I need some time,” he said without looking at Tony. “Just...to be alone for a while out here. Please?” That's when he did look at Tony, and the broken look in Sam's eyes spoke a thousand words.

“Sure,” Tony replied. “I'll be just inside if you need anything.” Tony quietly made his way into the house, shutting the door behind him and stopping Gibbs and Ducky from intruding on the younger Winchester for the time being.

Sam waited several silent minutes before turning around and looking at Dean. The lump reinforced in his throat and tears burned new again. He stepped forward, glancing at the fallen blanket on the deck floor beside the chair. He swiped the tears from his face before picking it up, shaking it, and draping it gently over Dean, up under his chin.   
“Damnit, Dean,” he whispered, brokenly. “I really hope nothing happens to Cas. 'Cause if he doesn't make it back here... we're both dead.” The finality of that decision gave him some measure of peace, albeit a small one. He laid back in the chair, then turned onto his side facing away from Dean; ashamed still at what he'd allowed himself to do. Before he realized he was even tired, he was fast asleep...

11 00 11 00 11

“Everything okay out there?” Gibbs asked Tony after he'd quietly led them to the living room.

“No. Not at all,” Tony replied as he sank down on the opposite side of the couch from his boss. Ducky sat in the chair across from them. Gibbs narrowed his eyes in Tony's direction for further explanation just as McGee appeared from the basement door and wandered into the living room. 

“Abby passed out in one of the hammocks,” he informed them, “And Bobby is keeping an eye on the cam.” His brow furrowed a bit at the sullen look on his colleagues faces. “Everything okay?”

“The sedative stopped working pretty much immediately,” Tony told them. “Dean woke up as his body started...contracting. It was like every muscle in his body was uncontrollably squeezing to the point we could hear his....bones start snapping like twigs.”

“Dear god,” Ducky said in a low voice. “I've never seen such a thing in all my years...”

“Well,” Tony made a small sound that could've been a laugh, had he added even a hint of a smile, “It's a demonic poison, so I'm guessing that no you haven't.”

“He's quiet...” McGee glanced briefly toward the patio doors then back to Tony.

Tony met his eyes for a long moment, then Ducky's, and finally Gibbs'. “After his collar bone snapped, Sam didn't really have much of a choice... Dean was begging him,” he looked down at his lap. “And I don't blame him for giving in.”

Ducky and Gibbs immediately realized what he'd meant, then. Gibbs drew in a deep breath through his nose before slowly letting it out. “How?” Ducky asked.

“Painkillers,” he replied.

“Wait...” Tim swallowed, “Are you saying Sam... killed him?”

“Yeah, Probie. That's what I'm sayin',” he met his eyes again; a serious look in his eyes that dared him to question the decision. “He didn't wanna make him suffer any longer. We tried everything; it was the last resort. But it was the humane thing to do. It's not like he's gone forever, right?”

“Yeah, but still,” Tim said as he leaned back on the fireplace, “That had to be...really tough on Sam...”

Tony flinched slightly, suddenly proud of his probie for the actual subject of his concern. “He's pretty upset. Almost immediately regretted the decision. But I don't think there's anything we can say or do to make him feel any better until Castiel shows up.”

“How much longer do you think he'll be?” Tim asked.

“Not really sure. But...I guess there's not much else we can do right now. Maybe...you should try and get some sleep?”

“I'm not sure I can, right now,” Tim admitted. 

Ducky sighed, “Well, I suppose I'll at least attempt to catch a bit of shuteye,” he said as he stood with his tea. “If Sam has any trouble...well, if you need me, don't hesitate to come and get me.”

“Yeah, Duck. Thanks,” Gibbs told him.

“Goodnight,” the doctor said before retreating up the stairs. 

“What about you, Tony?” Gibbs asked. “You've had a damn long night.”

“Yeah, right,” he smirked. “No way I'm getting to sleep any time soon...”

11 00 11 00 11

Sam was pulled from his sleep by a hand gently shaking his shoulder. “Sam,” a voice whispered. A familiar voice...

His eyes shot open to the person crouching beside the chair he was laying in. “Dean?”

Dean smiled, “Yeah, Sammy. Time to get up.” Dean stood up.

“Dean...” Sam shot up to stand and threw his arms around him into an embrace. “I'm sorry...” his voice cracked.

Dean furrowed his brow as he returned the hug. “You've got nothin' to be sorry about, Sam. You did what I asked you to,” he pulled away and held him at arms length to look him in the eye. “Wish you woulda done it sooner,” he smirked, “But better late than never, right?” Sam's face scrunched a bit and his eyes shone with anguish. The smirk faded from Dean's face. “I'm sorry I asked you to do that, Sammy. That was a lot to ask... I can't thank you enough.”

Sam looked him over, “Everything's better?”

“Yeah,” Dean told him as he dropped his hands. “I need a shower and a change of clothes, but other than that, I'm good as new.” Sam nodded in acknowledgment as he continued to look at him. Dean knew, in that moment,, exactly what his little brother was thinking; what that pain in his eyes meant. “Listen, Sam. That pain...” Sam met his brother's eyes as he spoke. “It was like being back in Hell again.” Sam flinched at that. “And you stopped it. You made it go away. I'm not some...senior citizen who's just tired of life and wanted to die. You're not Kavorkian,” he told him, and Sam's gaze dropped for a moment, someplace lower than his face. “And you're not a murderer.” He met his eyes again. “You're not evil, Sammy. You did this because you're not evil; because you're good and you're strong. Sometimes I think...you're stronger than me. 'Cause, Sam,” his eyes met the shocked and almost disbelieving eyes of his little brother, “I can only hope I'd be strong enough to have done that for you. But I know, right now, that I don't think I could have. I woulda killed me,” he gave a sad smirk that accentuated the tears that had been building in his eyes. “Cas or no Cas, it woulda torn me apart. So I'm sorry, Sammy,” he said as he pulled him back into an embrace and squeezed him tighter. “I'm sorry for makin' you do that.” 

“It's okay, Dean,” Sam replied, holding him just as tightly. “I'm just...I'm glad you're okay.” And for the first time since he'd been awake, he glanced around the deck. “Where's Cas?”

Dean pulled gently away, “He's inside. Has somethin' to tell us all. He's waiting on us.” He looked Sam over, noticing now the blood that had undoubtedly come from Dean, himself. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Sam replied. “Let's go see what he has to say.”

11 00 11 00 11

Castiel sat silently in the armchair Ducky had earlier been occupying. He and the agents patiently waited for the Winchesters to emerge from the deck, since Castiel had informed them that Dean was now alive and well.   
They were all relieved to see him, even in the bloodied clothes, as they entered the living room through the kitchen. Dean briefly met Tony's eyes and gave him an appreciative nod for supporting his brother through all of it. Then he turned to the angel, “Alright, Cas. What's the plan?”

“There is an incantation that can hold Hel, as if in a devil's trap,” Castiel told them as he stood from the chair. “It won't work if it's said out loud. The words must be thought within a hundred feet of her.”

“Okay,” Dean said. “Sounds simple enough.”

“There is one other requirement,” he said. Dean raised a brow. “The only way the incantation will work is if it's done by someone with a specific aura. Here, it would be one whose innocence had been taken from them.”

“You mean...” Tony surmised, “Raped?” 

“Not just,” Castiel looked at him. “But taken forcibly from purity.”

“You mean raped before they ever...had sex before?” Sam deduced.

“Yes,” Castiel replied. 

“No offense, Cas,” Dean started, “But we don't really have time to find someone who fits that description.”

“There's no need to search,” the angel replied. “As I told you in the beginning of all of this, everyone here has experienced many trials in their lives.”

“You sayin' someone here...?” Gibbs didn't need to complete the question. Tony and Gibbs thought, perhaps, seeing as where and how she was raised, that it could be Ziva. But as they looked at Castiel, the angel was turning his head, and looking over to Tim.  
Both agents turned to look at him as well, now. Tim stood straight and awkwardly; blood drained from his face, yet somehow flushed as well. He was clearly uncomfortable and now on the spot as everyone's gaze had fallen upon him.

“Damnit, Cas...” Tim swallowed. “You couldn't have...done this privately?” he shuddered and quickly escaped the room, fleeing up the stairs.

“Real tactful, Cas,” Dean glared.

Tony looked at Gibbs once Tim disappeared up the stairs; his face clearly conveying the fact that this revelation had disturbed him greatly. “I'm gonna go talk to him,” he said in barely a whisper before standing and going after his probie.

Gibbs looked up at the angel. Castiel almost imperceptibly shrugged one shoulder, “I apologize...”

“No need to say it to me,” Gibbs told him. Then he looked back up toward the vacant stairs.   
McGee had always seemed the most well-rounded of their team. Someone who'd been raised right; always played by the rules and followed his dreams. He'd worked hard to get where he was today. It didn't seem like there'd been a dark secret in his past. But now that he thought about it, Tim's insecurities and tendancies to have trouble with women, seemed a little more understandable now. Of course...that didn't really mean much of anything, when he thought about it. The truth was, Tim had hidden it well...

11 00 11 00 11

“Tim?” Tony stepped into their room to find McGee sitting in a chair by the window, his elbows on his knees and his head resting loosely in his hands.

Tim's head shot up and he had a look in his eyes that portrayed a slight bit of horror. “Look, I'll do the stupid incantation thing, okay? I just...I can't be down there right now,” he dropped his head again. “I don't know how to...do this...”

Tony quietly closed the door and walked into the room, sitting down on the edge of the bed which was just a couple of feet away from the chair. “How to do what?” he ask, softly.

“I haven't even thought about it in a really long time. And I've never told anyone. Anyone, Tony,” his eyes met his partner's again. “And Castiel just blurted it out in front of you and Gibbs...and Sam and Dean. God...” he pushed himself out of the chair and moved toward the frosted window, crossing his arms in front of him. “Why did he have to do that?”

“I don't think he did it with intention to embarrass you,” Tony offered. “He's kinda like a kid, ya know? Just says things without thinkin' about how it might make someone feel.”

“Yeah...”

There was a still silence in the room, but Tony was sure he could hear the gears slipping in McGee's head. “I know it's kinda personal, but...why didn't you ever tell anyone?”

Tim's head dropped a bit and Tony watched his fingers nervously twist into the sides of his teeshirt where his arms were still crossed. “At first?...'Cause I didn't really understand what happened...”

Tony flinched at that. “How old were you, Tim?”

McGee took a silent breath. “I'd just finished fourth grade; Dad was at sea and Mom had taken a summer job where she had these crazy long hours. So she sent me to a Summer camp...”

“Fourth grade?” Tony felt his eye twitch. “So you were, what...ten?”

“I think so,” he fought the urge to turn and see Tony's face. “All I really remember was that I'd just finished fourth.”

“Jesus...How did...” Tony came to a realization, then. And he could feel his gut twisting; a coldness painfully shooting through his body causing him to shiver. “McGee, you don't have to tell me... But I'm here and willing to listen, and I think you should talk about it.”

“Why?” McGee asked as he turned to look at him; brow furrowed.

“Uh...well, I hear talking about it is supposed to help,” he replied.

“No. I mean...why are you willing to listen?”

Tony narrowed his eyes, “What do you mean? Of course I'm willing to listen, McGee. You're my friend. And someone hurt you a long time ago and you've kept it a secret all this time. You can't hide things like that-”

“Yes, I can!” he retorted, his brow raising in exclamation. “And I have! And everything was fine! I don't want people assuming that I've somehow been shaped completely by that; that my entire life and everything I am, today, boils down to a sick fuck camp counselor sneaking into my bunk and screwing me into the mattress every night for a week-” his sentence ended abruptly as the memory caused his own stomach to turn. Tony's eyes were glassy when he met them again. He'd only ever seen him cry once before; right after Fenrir... “I didn't want people to look at me and think they had me pegged. 'McGee's insecurities and trouble with relationships' and all. I didn't want anyone at NCIS to think I couldn't handle field work or that I was somehow emotionally unfit. Because that's not who I am. I mean...that's not why I'm anything.”

“I never even suspected...” Tony told him. “And I don't think you let yourself be affected; not outwardly, anyway. But...you never told anyone, McGee? Not even to stop the bastard from doin' it to someone else?”

“I didn't have to,” he told him. “The idiot got drunk one night and took a canoe out onto the lake. Fell, hit his head before going into the water, and drowned. There really just wasn't any reason to tell anyone. It was embarrassing enough as it was. And after a while, the pain went away, and the nightmares came less and less. And eventually, I figured out that no one could see it...ya know, that I didn't look different because of what he did. That was the hardest part, really; thinking there was some kind of sign and people would know right away...”

Tony knew, right then and there, that perhaps he understood what the kid was saying. “I hid, too, Tim,” he told him. Tim furrowed a brow in question. Tony let out a small, nervous laugh and scratched the back of his head, and he watched as McGee moved back to the chair and sat down to listen. “Gibbs knows a little, only because the situation called for confessions,” he began. “When my dad's spirit was attacking us...” he took a breath and slowly let it out through his nose. This was going to be a little harder than he'd originally thought. But he wanted Tim to know that he understood, even if the circumstances weren't exactly the same. 

“Tony?” McGee urged him to continue.

“Those things he did to everyone,” he started, “When I was a kid, he did them to me.” He met Tim's eyes in time to see them flash. “What he did to Ziva... when I was-” he paused in thought, “God, I don't even remember how old I was. I was small...maybe seven. I played baseball in school. It was the first game, and my dad didn't show up. In hindsight, I shouldn't have been surprised,” he smirked. “But after seeing all the other kids' dads all proud in the stands, I was kinda disappointed, ya know?” Tim listened intently. “So I get home and go to my dad's study. He'd been drinking, of course...why I was shocked, I don't know. I asked why he didn't come. He got...real pissed off at that. I could feel my whole body go cold...numb...'cause I knew what was comin' next. And I tried to apologize. Tried not to cry, 'cause...well he didn't much care for that, either. But I couldn't help it. And so he decided to shut me up, instead.”

Tim remembered what Ziva looked like the morning after her attack; the marks on her throat. And suddenly, he realized what must've happened. “He choked you...”

“Yeah,” he let out a small laugh. “Nothin' stops a kid from talkin' or cryin' like cuttin' off the air supply. And, of course, waiting til they pass out so you don't have to listen to the aftermath.”

“God...I'm sorry, Tony.”

“No. I'm sorry. 'Cause all that ended up on you guys, and I'd never wish any of it on any of you...” Tim swallowed as he thought back on what had happened to Gibbs and himself. “Yeah...you getting thrown into that cupboard? One day, I thought I was so smart... Took his bottle of gin and poured it down the drain so he couldn't drink that night. Unfortunately, I got caught in the act. Killer thing is,” he laughed, “He was just getting home from the bar. So, my efforts were in vain. He was so mad... Shoved me into his 'hunting' closet. There was so much stuff in there, that my tiny little body was wedged up against the door and I couldn't move. It was dark and it smelled funny. But the worst part was not being able to move... He left me there till the next morning when he could send me off to school.”

McGee was glad that Tony's gaze had drifted down toward his own hands that fidgeted in his lap, because it was getting extremely difficult to fight the stinking in his eyes.   
“What he did to Gibbs,” he continued, this time swallowing before he began again, “I was...maybe eight. Dad was having a sorta party with some business associates. You know, one of those cookouts where everyone brings their kids, so I actually got to come downstairs and participate. Guess in all the excitement, I accidentally spilled a drink all down the front of my shirt. Dad...well...” he took a few short breaths as the memory seemed to affect him a little more than he'd anticipated.

Tim sensed how difficult it was getting for him; Tony's hands fidgeting even more now. He reached out and placed a hand on one of his, and Tony looked up at him. “It's okay, Tony. You don't have to tell me.”

Tony smirked as Tim took back his hand, and he looked back down. “He dragged me inside,” he continued. “Took me upstairs to the bathroom at the far end of the house where no one could hear... I don't even remember what he said, really. Something about my inability to go a day without embarrassing him. He filled the tub and made me stand there and wait. Didn't even take my clothes off before putting me in. He was so...angry...and he hadn't even had much more than a couple of beers that day. I didn't think he'd do anything, really. But next thing I know, I'm being held underwater,” he sat up, but his eyes focused somewhere else in the room as he spoke. “I could feel his hand squeezing and pressing on the back of my neck to hold me there, but I couldn't understand why. I opened my eyes...all I could see was the bottom of the tub, and the bubbles of air when I started yelling.” He took a deep breath, as if reminding himself he wasn't still in that water. “Next thing I remember, is one of the housemaids kneeling over me, crying...maybe from relief. I was on the floor, then. She must've pulled me out and did CPR.”

“Did she report him?” Tim's voice cracked and Tony met his eyes to see unshed tears that Tim was barely holding onto.

Tony purposefully relaxed his face and gave him a small smile, “Nah. Dad had her convinced I'd simply been stupid and slipped in while no one was looking. Paid her a few grand as 'reward' for saving me. Really, it was most likely hush money. Either way, no one found out.” He watched McGee as he seemed to lose himself in his own thoughts. “My point of tellin' you all this, wasn't to have a horror-story pissing contest,” he said.

Tim furrowed his brow, “I didn't think that, at all.”

“Didn't say you did. But anyway, my point is, I know what it's like to hide. I know why you hide. I did it for the same reason; didn't want people to look at me with pre-programmed stipulations. 'Cause, like you, I didn't let it shape who I am today either. Sure, I've got some residual issues...side effects, if you will. But there's no way in hell I let them get in my way or screw up what I have now. I let it do that in the past. Let it chase me away from other places too soon. But I like what I have here and I won't let it...won't let him take that away.”

McGee looked at him with new understanding, and maybe a bit of amazement. “You told me some of your darkest secrets, just to let me know I'm not alone? That you understand?”

“Well yeah, Probie,” he grinned. “You told me yours, first, ya know... Would you tell me something else, though?”

“What?”

“Me bunking in here with you...does that make you...uncomfortable or anything?” he almost regretted asking, as soon as it came out of his mouth.

“No, Tony,” he replied, calmly. “You don't make me uncomfortable. Though I've expected to wake up with my hand in a bowl of warm water, or shaving cream on my face... I do trust you otherwise. With pretty much everything.”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, really,” McGee smiled.

Tony returned the smile, “Thanks, Tim. That means... a lot. And thanks for trusting to talk to me about...things.”

“Same to you,” he replied. “And thanks for listening. I do kinda feel...unexplainably a bit better.”

“Me too.” Tony thought about that for a moment. He did feel better, he found. This whole 'talking' business, regardless of how stupid he'd always considered it to be, had its advantages. Even if he didn't entirely understand why. “We should go back downstairs and see what we're gonna do as far as Hel and the incantation thing...”

“Yeah,” he said as they both stood. “Let's get this over with...”


	12. Chapter 12

Sam was in the basement after having pretreated Dean's clothes and his own shirt, and was putting them in the washer as he let Bobby know what was going on. The girls were asleep at Tony's apartment, and Abby was still passed out in the hammock. Bobby decidedly followed Sam back upstairs.   
Dean was just getting out of the shower; ecstatic about the fact that he'd found a pair of old sweatpants to wear to bed, as he was still a bit chilled. When he came out of the guest room, he met Sam, Bobby, Tony and Gibbs in the kitchen. McGee was in the living room with Castiel.  
“Everything okay?” Dean asked the group at the table.

“Guess that depends on your definition of 'okay',” Tony smirked. “Everyone's alive and accounted for; no one's dying. Seems pretty well to me.”

“But Hel is still out there,” Gibbs said. “And we're not exactly sure how to lure her to us, now that we have a weapon against her.”

“Well,” Dean said as he pulled up a chair to sit, “Maybe we can get Kate and Ziva to come back here. They found you en route here from Tony's place; seems like she might be on the lookout now.”

“And with Ziva driving,” Tony said, “Chances are she'd make it back here before Hel could really catch up and do any damage.”

“Maybe,” Gibbs said, looking down into his coffee. 

“We should have Castiel zap over there and ride back with them, just in case,” Bobby suggested. Gibbs gave him a nod in agreement.

It seems once his name had been mentioned, the angel and McGee headed into the kitchen. “Everything all set?” Dean asked.

“I know what to do, if that's what you mean,” Tim replied. 

“So, what's the plan? When do we do this?” McGee queried.

“Tonight,” Sam told him. “Hel seems to be on a particular rampage right now. It's best to take her out before she does something else.”

11 00 11 00 11

After leaving explicit instructions for them not to leave the house until his return, Castiel vanished from them to go to Ziva and Kate. Tony snuck down to the basement to retrieve the laptop so they'd have an idea of when they left, and when to expect them back. But he avoided waking Abby. They'd decided to leave her and Ducky to sleep this one out.  
When he got back upstairs and to the living room with the computer, Tony saw Tim sitting a bit apprehensively on the couch. He walked over, setting the laptop on the coffee table facing them before sinking down beside him on the couch. “Doin' okay?”

Tim glanced over at him for a moment, “Yeah. Just thinking.”

“Nervous?”

“Yeah. I guess. But not for myself,” he looked over at him again. “If this doesn't work, I'm afraid of what she might do. I know that you, Dean and Cas will be inside until she's trapped. But Gibbs, Sam, Ziva, Kate and Bobby will be out there and exposed. If I can't trap her, she could...really hurt or even kill all of them.”

“It'll work, Probie,” he assured him. “But I'm sorry I can't be out there with you at the beginning.”

McGee smirked, “I don't need you to hold my hand, Tony.”

“Sure you do! You're my probie!” he smiled. Tim shook his head, but before he could snarkily reply, a ruckus sounded from the computer and they both looked at the screen to see Ziva and Kate readying themselves to leave with Castiel. “Hey, Kate!” Tony tried to get her attention. “Katie!”

“What, Tony?” she stopped, unceremoniously in front of the cam.

“Remember Gibbs' driving?” he asked. Tim couldn't help the corners of his lips turning up.

“Of course. You think even death could make someone forget something like that?” she smirked.

“Well, fair warning; you're in for the scariest ride of your life...er well...you know what I mean. And it has nothing to do with what's outside of the car.”

“I heard that, Tony,” Ziva's voice sounded somewhere in the background, causing both agents to grin.

“She couldn't possibly be any worse than Gibbs,” Kate assumed.

“We'll ask you once you get here, what your judgment is on that,” Tony smirked.

“It is time to go,” Ziva told Kate. Then she turned to look at the cam, “I will deal with you when we arrive.” The camera turned off, leaving a blank screen on their laptop, and a semi-worried look on Tony's face.

Tim saw it and nearly laughed. “Don't worry, Tony. She'll probably forget all about it in the chaos.”

“One can only be so lucky, McGoo,” he stood. “And what makes you think she was just talkin' to me?”

Tim's brow furrowed, “I didn't say anything...”

“Yeah but you smiled, which means you agreed,” he smirked. Tim looked at the blank screen, then back to Tony again. “Don't worry; she probably won't hurt you till after we take care of Hel.”

“She's not gonna hurt me at all,” he smirked and stood as well after shutting the laptop. “You're just trying to make yourself feel better.” Tony narrowed his eyes as his grin slowly faded. “Did it work?”

“It did for a minute, Probie,” he glared. But he didn't argue further, because, as he'd cleverly planned, Tim's personal worry had been deflected, if only for the moment. 

Gibbs wandered into the living room after shutting his cell, “Vance has been notified that we may be bringing in the accomplice to the murder-suicides. Dead or alive.”

“Guess that'll depend on how it goes down, eh?” Tony replied.

“Well, the girl Hel is using as a meat-suit isn't exactly innocent,” McGee said. “She'll be doing time, and quite possibly end up in a mental institution with the story she'll be telling.”

“So you think they should just use the colt and get it done with?” Tony asked with a furrowed brow.  
“No, that's not what I'm saying,” Tim defended. “I'm just saying, if it comes down to it, it's an option. If the incantation doesn't work, I mean,” his eyes shifted slightly.

'Crap,' Tony thought. 'So much for deflection.' “It'll work, McGee.” “God I hope it works...”

11 00 11 00 11

“They're pulling onto our street,” Gibbs told them as he shut his phone. “Showtime.” Gibbs patted McGee's shoulder before they headed toward the front door with Bobby and Sam.

Dean and Tony sat at the kitchen table; both equally nervous as they clinked the spoons around inside their coffee mugs. They were silent for several long moments after the front door closed again. But Tony made the sound of a short, breathy laugh that caused Dean to look up at him. “What?” he asked.

Tony met his eyes with a half-smile, “Is it sad that I can't think of any uplifting movie reference for this moment?”

Dean couldn't help but laugh, “Funny. I was...thinkin' the same thing. Maybe there's just not one?”

“There's always at least one,” Tony smirked, holding a finger up before looking back down at his coffee. “Maybe we'll figure it out afterward...ya know, when it no longer applies and will only be funny to us.” Dean grinned and took a long drink from his cup.

*~.~*

Castiel, Ziva and Kate got out of the car and were met by the others on the sidewalk.   
“Did you see her?” Sam asked Ziva.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “Not so much as a pair of headlights following us.”

Sam clenched his jaw as he thought. Then something occurred to him, and he turned to look at Bobby, “Hel said I'd know where to find her when it was time.”

Something flashed in Gibbs' eyes, “She told me she'd know when I wanted to find her.” They looked at Gibbs. “Think that means she'll show up here just because we want her to?”

“Maybe,” Sam exhaled. Then, looking around, he furrowed his brow, turning to face the street, “Damnit...Where's Cas?” he exclaimed.

“Sorry,” the angel appeared beside him again. “I thought it would be wise to put the neighbors to sleep.”

Sam's brow rose as he took a calming breath. “You should go inside until we have her trapped. I don't know if she'd be able to recognize who you are. It could scare her away.”

“Very well,” he replied. “The incantation will cause a momentary burst of light,” he told them. “Once we see it, we will come out.”

“If she even shows,” Bobby muttered as the angel went into the house.

“Oh, she'll show,” Sam spoke low as he turned back toward the street. “Gibbs, I think we should stand out there.” Though he was unsure why, Gibbs followed him anyway as the others stood side by side in the lawn, readying themselves for whatever might happen. Sam and Gibbs stopped under a streetlight. “I think she might be able to sense we want her, if we were...grieving,” Sam looked at Gibbs. “As if she could sense our pain from loss; know we're ready to make a deal...”

“You tellin' me we need to stand here an' cry?” he asked incredulously. 

“No,” he let out a small laugh. “Just...try and make believe they weren't brought back; how we'd feel.”

“How the hell do I do that?” Gibbs furrowed his brow.

Sam shrugged, “Close your eyes and remember what it felt like when Tony died.”

Gibbs flinched almost imperceptibly. He'd already shoved this emotion deep down and away; refused himself to dwell in it any longer. Dredging it back up again would be against everything he'd always done...at least, without a glass of bourbon in his hand.  
“Are you ready?” Sam's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“I got a choice?” Gibbs half-smirked.

*

The four people on the lawn watched as Gibbs and Sam closed their eyes, bodies facing up the street. “What are they doing?” Ziva whispered.

“Calling her,” Bobby stated. The agents glanced over at him. “Just thought of it, myself. I'm sure Sam did, too. They've gotta feel what they felt when Tony and Dean died. That desperation is Hel's opportunity to make a deal. If we're right, and she can sense it, she'll show...”

*

“You will not die, Tony,” Gibbs said through gritted teeth as he held his agent tighter.

“'M..s'ry...boss...” his body shook with his final breaths, and then went still in Gibbs' arms. Tony's grip on Gibbs' sleeve loosened and his hand fell to the street below him.   
Gibbs wanted yell out; curse the heavens; scream...anything. But he couldn't find it in himself to even try. Not even so much as a sound to accompany his sorrowed breaths as he picked Tony up further in his arms, holding him against his chest...

*

“Th- thank you...thank you, Sam-my...” Dean said, weakly.   
Sam took hold of Dean's hand with both of his, suddenly overcome by a feeling of dread and regret. “Dean...”  
“Gon' be okay, Sm... You'll see... gon' be okay...” his breaths slowed and his eyes began to unfocus and cross.  
“Dean, wait....wait...” he panicked as tears streamed down his face. As if he could call 're-do'.  
“S'ok...” Dean whispered. And that was the last thing he said...the last breath that left his body...

The memories played in their heads, and they allowed the emotion to absorb them. They didn't let the true ending in; just what they needed to bring her there...  
Above them, the streetlight flickered, and both of them opened their eyes. Hel stood there, mere feet in front of them, but she was looking over toward the house. “You know you don't need back-up, right?” she said with a slight grin. The grin faded when she recognized Kate. “How interesting...you've somehow managed to hide her energy from me,” she looked at Gibbs and Sam now. “So, you're ready to make a deal?”

“Yeah,” Sam said. “Just...not the one you were offering.” He met McGee's eyes, signaling him. Tim nodded and looked at Hel, saying the incantation in his head. 

Hel's head whipped around to look at McGee. “Sonofa...” A shockwave of light suddenly engulfed Hel and spread out amongst them all, briefly, before it only surrounded underneath her, holding her in place.   
McGee stood in a state of unexpected awe at what he'd just done. But just as quickly, he felt himself being pulled from reality; dizzy for a moment before being thrust into a memory he'd tucked safely away from playing in his mind...

*

“What just happened?” Kate asked without looking away from the trapped demon-god. 

“Tim did an incantation,” Bobby said as Dean, Tony and Castiel emerged from the house. 

“I did not hear you say...” Ziva's voice drifted off as she saw the glazed look in McGee's eyes where he was staring out into the street. “McGee?” she turned to him.

“He cannot answer you right now,” Castiel told her. “He will be lost until the trap is no longer needed.”

“What do you mean 'lost'?” Tony asked as he worriedly approached Tim's other side.

“The experience which gave him this aura that allowed him to do the incantation,” Castiel explained, “Its memory is what gives the trap its power.”

“Wait...you mean he's...reliving it over and over?” Tony's voice was quiet but agitated. 

“What is this?!” Hel yelled as she beheld Tony and Dean. “How is this possible?” 

“Turns out we don't need anything you have to offer,” Sam told her. She turned to look at him and glared. He simply smirked. 

Hel then fixed her gaze on Gibbs. “I suppose you want to kill me then?”

“Nah,” he replied. “Gonna send you home. For good, this time.”

She narrowed her eyes. “If you don't let me go, your precious Kate will die.”

“You have no power inside that trap, Hel,” Dean said as he approached.

“I don't need to do anything,” she smirked. “If I go, she goes. It's simple, really. My life in this world sustains hers.”

Gibbs turned to look at Kate who was looking at him now. She glanced around before settling her eyes back on him. “It's okay,” she told him.

“Kate-” Tony started to protest.

“No, Tony,” she looked at him and smirked, “I'm not supposed to be here. You know that. We all do.” Her smile turned a bit sad. “My soul isn't even here. I...don't even have a place here anymore.”

“We can make a place, Kate,” Tony said. 

“At the expense of the world?” she smiled. “DiNozzo, I didn't think you cared so much.”

“I'm not gonna let you die again,” his voice shook.

“You never let me die,” she shook her head. “And I'm already dead, Tony. This isn't your decision.”

“Please don't send me back,” Hel's voice cut through the conversation and the group turned to look at her. Her face was one of anguish. “I did nothing wrong...I was banished because of my father...because I am his daughter. And they cast me into the underworld. I don't want to go back there...please...”

“You can't stay here,” Dean told her. “People have died...a lot of people, because of you. You can't roam free here.”

“Then kill me,” she requested. “If my choices are going home, or death, then I choose death. Please...”

“We kill you,” Sam said, “We kill the girl you're possessing.”

“She's far from innocent,” Hel told him.

“Maybe so, but that's not how we deal with things here,” Gibbs said. 

“You have a death penalty,” she retorted.

“Yeah, sometimes,” he replied. “For murderers.”

“Who do you think helped organize the murder-suicides at the Covenant House? This girl you're so bent on protecting, she did this to gain power. She won't stop once I'm gone. She'll cause more people to die!”

“We can't kill her for somethin' she hasn't done yet,” Gibbs retorted.

“Why not? Why must you wait until more people die, to take her down?” Hel queried.

“She won't have the chance, because she'll be locked up.”

“So you'll spare her, to lock her away,” she laughed. “That makes a lot of sense.”

“It's how it works, here,” Gibbs narrowed his eyes at her.

“You sure are hellbent on taking her down with you,” Sam told her. 

Hel shot him a glare. “I'm more interested in not going home.”

“Guys?” Kate approached. All eyes fell on her. “I might have a resolution for all of this.”

For a moment, they looked at her in question. Then Tony spoke, “No...no, absolutely not!”

“I'm dead either way,” she protested.

“We don't know that, Kate,” Gibbs said.

“Yes,” Ziva spoke up. “She could by lying to try and stop us from sending her back.”

“This shouldn't even be a discussion,” Sam spoke loud enough to cut through the conversation. “Hel doesn't deserve our sympathy after what she put us all through,” he let out a disbelieving laugh. 

“Sam is right,” Castiel said as he approached the trap. “Is everyone well?”

“What?” Dean asked.

Cas turned his head to look at him, “Is everyone well, Dean, should I leave for a while?”

They understood, then, what he intended to do. “I think so.”

“Wait,” Tony interrupted. “What about Tim? When this is...when the trap is gone, what happens to him?”

“He may be disoriented,” Castiel explained. “But physically, he won't be in any danger.” He turned his head back to face Hel.

“Wait,” Kate said. “Just...one second. Just in case.” The angel nodded to her and she turned to Ziva and held out her hand, “It was nice meeting you, Ziva.” Ziva swallowed and took Kate's hand. “I'm glad they found someone else they can trust to have their sixes.” She turned to Tony, looking up at his saddened eyes. 

“Kate...”

“Tony, promise me you won't somehow blame yourself for this one, too?” she smirked.

“You don't even know-”

“Yeah, well... If I do, I'd like to have at least been able to say goodbye this time. Speaking of which,” she glanced toward McGee, “Let Tim know I said so.”

“I will,” Tony said in barely a whisper before bending down slightly to pull her into a light, brief hug. She pulled away and gave him a small smile before turning to Gibbs.

“Gibbs...” she sighed, looking at steel blue eyes that seemed a bit haunted and sad. “I still don't regret taking the job offer,” she smirked at him. He couldn't help but return the gesture. “I would've liked to stay around longer than I did, but hey... it's not every day you get proof there's an afterlife, huh?”

“You believed that already,” he said in a hushed voice.

She tilted her head a bit, “Guess so. But everyone has doubts now and again.” They stood there for a moment, before Gibbs leaned over, cupping her chin, and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Oh this is all so touching,” Hel interrupted. “But if you're just going to send me away, can we get it over with already? I may lose my lunch, here...”

Kate turned around, “Don't be too hard on her, Castiel,” she said. “After all, she did give me an extra day.”

“Her punishment will not be up to me,” the angel replied, then turned to enter the trap and grabbed hold of Hel. A bright light temporarily blinded them all and they shielded their eyes until they couldn't see it beyond their lids any longer...


	13. Chapter 13

Tony was the first to open his eyes and realize that they were short one person. “Kate?” he perhaps didn't mean to even say the whispered word aloud. She wasn't even there. She was gone. Gibbs met Tony's eyes, apologetically. 

“Tony,” Sam's tone caught his attention immediately and he looked at the younger Winchester as he motioned with his head toward McGee.

“Oh god...” Tony's heart sank before he took to close the distance to get to his probie. Tim was trembling, ghostly pale and had tears streaking both cheeks, steadily streaming from red-rimmed eyes. But those eyes seemed unfocused, as if he wasn't really aware of where he was in that moment. And once Tony reached him he laid a hand on Tim's shoulder and it seemed to pull him into reality.  
Almost immediately, McGee lurched forward, dropped to his knees and retched into the grass in front of him. Though dark and pretty impossible to tell once it hit the grass, Tony was fairly certain that the content was pure coffee. He knelt down beside the agent and placed a cautious hand on his back, unmoving, simply as a reminder that he wasn't alone.  
As Tim continued to heave, Tony glanced up as Gibbs directed the others to go back into the house; Ziva still in the street securing the unconscious girl that had been a vessel to Hel. The lead agent then looked toward Tony and Tim and came over to them, squatting down beside Tony. His senior agent seemed to be at just as much of a loss as to what to do, as he felt.   
Beneath his hand, Tony could feel when McGee's heaving came to an end and was simply replaced with shaky breathing. “Tim, you okay?” he asked in a quiet, steady voice.

“I...I'd forgotten...” he replied in barely a whisper without looking up from the ground. Tony furrowed a brow and waited for him to continue. “...how terrifying...” he didn't need to finish it.

“Was a long time ago...” Tony said softly, moving his hand up to Tim's shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. Gibbs squinted in Tony's direction, realizing Tim must've confided in him earlier.

Tim sat back on his haunches and looked out into the air somewhere in front of him before swiping at his wet cheeks. “Whatever that was,” he said, “Made it feel like it was just yesterday.” His voice cracked with that last word.

“I'm sorry, Tim,” Tony said. “Are you okay? You in pain or anything?” his brow furrowed with concern. Tim shook his head, mutely, still not meeting anyone's eyes.

“You wanna go inside?” Gibbs' voice startled him slightly, as if he'd just now realized he was there. 

“I...think I just...wanna sit here for a little bit,” he replied quietly.

“You want us to leave you alone?” Tony asked. McGee closed his eyes, causing fresh tears to fall, and shook his head again. Tony and Gibbs shared a quick glance before Gibbs decidedly moved to Tim's other side, and both men sat down more comfortably on either side of their troubled friend. 

Gibbs wanted to know what had happened to Tim, mostly because he didn't want to do anything to make him uncomfortable, or put him in a situation that would cause that discomfort. But he also didn't want to force him to talk about it all over again. “Tim, feel free to say no to this, but would you be okay with Tony givin' me a sit-rep?”

McGee looked down at his lap for a moment in apprehensive thought. Then came to a decision. “Okay...” he swallowed.

Gibbs met Tony's eyes, slightly surprised at the look on the agent's face; one of hesitancy to open his mouth. But Tony gave a slight nod, took a deep breath and let it out before speaking. “He was ten,” he began. That fact made Gibbs' eye twitch with something akin to anger and horror. “Camp counselor...every night for a week. The guy died in a drunken boat accident, or he might've kept going. Tim never told anyone, Boss. Not anyone.”

“Didn't want it to shape who I am, boss,” Tim said in barely a whisper. 

Gibbs noticed Tony's hand still on McGee's shoulder, and decidedly put his own on the other one. “It didn't, Tim,” he told him. 

Tim looked over at him then, eyes shining in the streetlight. “Thanks, boss.” Gibbs gave him a small smile and a slight nod.   
Headlights suddenly became visible as a car turned up the street...

11 00 11 00 11

After sending the Metro PD officers off with Brianna, having explained that she was a conspirator in the murder-suicides and was clearly mentally deranged and in need of psychiatric evaluation, Gibbs and Ziva headed back inside the house.   
Tony had brought Tim inside once the squad car had arrived, and since they were no where to be seen on the first floor, Gibbs surmised he'd taken him upstairs. As he entered the kitchen, Dean, Sam and Bobby greeted him with nods and Dean handed him a beer, which he gratefully accepted.   
Ziva simply slipped into the doorway to go to the basement. Her intention was to steal a drink of Gibbs' bourbon and drink it in the peaceful silence that wouldn't come had she been in the crowded kitchen. But the creak in one of the stairs caused Abby to stir from her sleep and open her eyes once the Israeli reached the bottom.   
“Ziva?” she said sleepily before sitting up a bit and rubbing an eye. “What time is it?”

“It is late, still,” she supplied as she decidedly avoided going for the liquor and made her way to the adjacent hammock. “I did not mean to wake you.”

“Why are you down here? Is everything okay?”

“It is over,” she told her calmly. “Hel has been returned. Castiel hasn't yet come back.”

“How long was I asleep?” Abby was fully awake now. “And why do you look so troubled, Zi? You never look troubled...well, hardly ever, anyway... Is something wrong? Did someone get hurt?” she became nervous.

“No, Abby. Not really,” she sank down into the hammock.

“What does that mean? 'Not really'...”

“McGee...”

“Something happened to Timmy?” her brows rose and her eyes shone with fear.

“He is alright, Abby,” Ziva place a hand on her arm. “He was not harmed. But he seemed very disturbed by something, and I am afraid that I do not have all the information as to why.”

“I'm confused...”

“As am I,” she replied with a half smile. “All I know is that he used some sort of incantation to trap Hel. Once Castiel took her away, McGee seemed...very upset by something. Tony helped him back inside and I suppose they are upstairs now.”

“I should go see if he's okay,” Abby said as she hurriedly got out of the hammock.

“Abby...” Ziva warned, but Abby was on a mission as she hurried up the stairs. Ziva took off after her with a sigh.

Abby's first stop was the kitchen, “Where is he?” she asked Gibbs. “Where's McGee?”

“Abs,” Gibbs stepped forward after setting his beer down on the table, and put his hands on her shoulders to calm her from her obvious state of panic. “McGee's gonna be fine. You need to let him be, for now.”

“Castiel is gone! Every time he's gone, something bad happens and someone suffers or dies or....or something!”

“He's not gonna die and he's not in any physical pain,” Gibbs assured her. “Last thing he needs right now is a crowd of people, and he sure as hell doesn't want you to be worrying about him. Tony's takin' care of him; let it be. Let him come to you if he wants to, but pressuring him right now is only gonna make it worse.”

“Pressuring?” she defended. “Gibbs, I just wanted to make sure he was okay; give him a hug and see if he needed anything...”

“Like I said, Tony's got it under control for now.”

“I find it hard to believe he's given Tim a hug,” she challenged. Gibbs cocked his head and raised his brows. Abby straightened. “Oh my god... Gibbs, what's wrong with Timmy that Tony would've had to give him a hug?” she seemed horrified.

“Geez, Abs,” Tony's voice sounded as he entered the kitchen, and they all looked to him. “You act like I never give out hugs unless it's life and death! I hug you all the time!” he gave a part-offended, part-amused look.

“You hug me all the time, Tony,” Abby retorted as she shrugged out of Gibbs' grasp and approached him. “And that's usually just returning mine. What's going on? What's wrong with Tim, and why did you leave him all alone?”

“Relax, Abby,” Tony told her, placing his hands on her shoulders just as Gibbs had done previously. “McGee took a quick shower and cleaned himself up. Ducky woke up and came to ask what had happened, and he gave the probie a mild sedative to help him catch some sleep. I stayed up there til I knew he was out and Duck is keepin' an eye on him for a while so I could come down here and make sure everything else was okay,” he finished and glanced over at Gibbs, who gave him a slight nod. 

“So...I still don't understand...” she shook her head. “Ziva said he seemed upset. Why was he upset?” Gibbs glanced over at Ziva who was standing out of everyone else's sight in the basement doorway. She shot him an apologetic look.

“That's personal,” Tony's voice drew Gibbs' attention back to him. “It was necessary for the trap to work, I can say that much. But the rest... Abby, you can't ask him about it. If he wants to talk, he will. But you need to promise me that you won't get on his case about it if he doesn't. I mean it,” he added when Abby gave him a pout. “I trusted you enough to give you what information I just did. But I swear if you pry into this at all... This is Tim's privacy, Abby. And if I find out you tried to get him to talk, I'll never trust your word again.”

Abby's face flashed for a moment with something akin to hurt or fear, before it relaxed and only her eyes showed evidence of understanding his seriousness.  
Gibbs swelled with a bit of pride at Tony's protectiveness over Tim's situation. They both knew, far too well, that Abby would've pressed the issue, forcing him to tell her, even if she wouldn't have meant for it to cause the agent pain. She really just had no idea, and it wasn't their place to hint at the reasons she shouldn't pry.

Abby's jaw cocked to the side a bit as she pursed her lips and looked at him for a long moment. “Okay...” she finally agreed, in barely a whisper.

“Thank you, Abby,” Tony said, then moved to give her a hug. After a long moment, she resignedly returned the hug. “See?” he smiled. “I totally initiate hugs sometimes.”

Abby pulled away and gave him a playful punch in the shoulder, “Stop tryin' to take over my jobs!”

“Oh, don't worry, Abs,” Gibbs told her. “You'll be back on hug-duty tomorrow once Tony sees his car.” Tony looked over at him with a furrowed brow and Gibbs couldn't help the smirk.

“My car...” Tony seemed to come to a realization. “Oh god...my car! Boss, how bad is it? It's bad, isn't it... You've seen it?”

“Do yourself a favor and wait til tomorrow to worry about it,” Gibbs said. “It's not the end of the world.”

“Yeah, man,” Sam added, “You're alive. That's what matters.”

“That's what people say to people who lose their home in a fire or when their car is t...” Tony twitched, “Totaled...”

“Hey,” Gibbs put a hand on his shoulder. “Told ya not to worry about right now. And unless you know a car-angel, there's nothin' we can do about it tonight.”

“The Impala was t-boned by a semi a while back,” Bobby spoke up. “It was nothin' but a pile of scrap. But Sam insisted we keep it an' let Dean work on it once he got out of the hospital. Dean fixed her right up.”

“Really?” Tony's voice was like that of a child. “You fixed it all yourself?”

Dean grinned, “Took a while, but yeah. Purrs like a kitten.”

“You shoulda seen how elated he was to get it back on the road once he was done,” Sam smiled and shook his head at the memory.

“Not it, Sammy. Her.”

“Yeah, whatever. I'm just sayin'; it's the longest relationship Dean's ever had with any girl,” he smirked.

“Hey,” Dean defended. “Same rules apply; treat her right and take her out for a good time now and then, and she'll always stick around.”

“Unless a demon-god throws a car in the middle of your path as you're flying down the road,” Tony said, grimly. A grimace crossed his features, “Man...I just found her, too... My first 66 Mustang was blown up and I'd been lookin' and lookin'. Finally, I found one, and.... How bad is it, boss?” he turned to look at Gibbs.

Gibbs shook his head, “You're not gonna let it go til you see it, are ya?” he resigned. 

“I won't be able to sleep.”

Gibbs looked to the other men in the kitchen, “Is it safe enough to go out there?”

“Anyone have any visions of anymore guests from Valhalla?” Dean raised a brow in a half-joking manner.

“McGee didn't mention anything,” Tony said quietly.

“And Hel didn't have an agenda to bring anyone else here,” Sam added. “We might be okay.”

“Yeah, well, call me crazy,” Bobby said as he stood, “But I don't think we should take any chances. If you're goin' out to the garage, we're goin' with ya.”

*~.~*

As the garage door opened enough for Tony to see the car, his hands planted on the top of his head in dismay. “Oh god...” The entire front end of the car pressed in like an accordion, halfway up the hood. The windshield barely had any glass left of it.   
He felt Gibbs pat him on the shoulder before Tony dropped his arms back to his sides to walk in and check out the rest of the car. The inside looked pretty well intact.   
“Maybe I can just stick in a new windshield,” Tony said. “Sit in the driver seat and pretend everything's okay.”

“I can hook a hitch to the front and pull you along,” Gibbs smirked.

Tony let out a sound that might have been a laugh or a sob and buried his palms against his eyes. “I just have no luck when it comes to cars,” he said, pathetically. Dropping his hands, he leaned into the driver side window. “Granted, most of the time it's not my fault...”

“This wasn't either,” Gibbs reminded him.

“Maybe I should just start takin' the bus.”

“You will do no such thing, Tony,” Ziva piped in. “Put the car in the shop, and one of us will be your ride to work until it is fixed.”

“Or we can fix it,” Dean suggested. 

“What?” Tony looked over at him.

“Well...I mean, I'm pretty sure we could. We might be here for a little while longer. In town, I mean. Sam and I, and Bobby, could help ya get started.”

“I...don't know a whole lot about cars,” Tony admitted. “Enough to fix a little problem here and there...but this? I wouldn't even have time, with work and all.”

“Could do it over time, DiNozzo,” Gibbs suggested. “I could help ya after they have to leave.”

“And until then, we can give you rides,” Ziva gave him a reassuring smile. 

Tony looked from Ziva, to Dean, then to Gibbs, “Really? You think we can...fix it? Together?”

“Well, I'm sure as hell not doin' it myself,” Gibbs smirked. 

“Once I get home,” Bobby said, “I'll look around an' see if I've got any spare parts that'll come in handy. I'm bettin' the boys wouldn't mind comin' back out this way to deliver 'em.”

“Yeah,” Dean nodded with a silly smile on his face, “What's a little 21 hour drive between friends?”

11 00 11 00 11

Later that night, Tony entered the guest room, quietly, allowing Ducky to go back to his room. He changed into some sweats and decidedly pulled a throw blanket from the edge of the bed and sank down into the chair beside the window.  
“What're you doing?” Tim's sleepy voice sounded, and Tony looked over and met his eyes.

“I was uh...gonna go to sleep, McGee. What's it look like?”

“Why are you going to sleep in the chair?”

“Well...” how could he put it non-offensively? I didn't wanna sneak into bed while you were sleeping, McGoo. Ya know, bring up a really bad memory that more recently surfaced in a pretty bad way?

“I get it, Tony. I do. But I'm fine, really. Unless...you're uncomfortable sharing the bed now?”

“No!” Tony defended. “I just...didn't wanna wake you up, man. You were sleeping.”

“Well, now I'm awake. So just...get in bed and shut up so I can go back to sleep.”

Tony narrowed his eyes, “Bossy,” he said as he stood and mock-stomped over to the other side of the bed and climbed in. “G'night, McBossypants.”

“Night, Tony,” he let out a small laugh, despite the annoying nickname as he subconsciously turned to face the middle of the bed before closing his eyes.

“Tim...”

“Yeah?” he opened his eyes to see Tony was lying on his back, but his head was turned slightly in his direction.

“Thanks.”

“...For what?” he furrowed his brow.

“For uh...what you did out there tonight. Had to be tough.”

“Well I didn't really have much of a choice...”

“Yeah, you did, but I get what you're sayin'. Thanks anyway, just the same.” There was a short silence. “And thanks for trusting me... I don't know why you do; I give you a hard time pretty much consistently.”

“Gibbs gives you a hard time,” Tim said. “You trust him. And I trust you. You have my six where it counts, Tony. Even when you don't have to...”

“'Course I do. And I always will. You know that, right?”

“Yeah...I guess I do,” he replied, thoughtfully. “I'll always have yours, too, ya know.”

“Yeah, I know, Probie,” he gave a light grin before looking back up at the ceiling. Before he knew it, he'd drifted off to sleep...

*~.~*

It seemed like mere moments before he was pulled from a deep sleep. But as Tony glanced at the clock, he realized it had been a couple of hours. He closed his eyes again, wondering what had woken him in the first place. Then he felt the bed shaking and heard the struggled breath of the agent on the other side of it. He sat straight up and clicked on the side table lamp before turning to look at Tim.  
McGee was in the throes of a nightmare; that much was clear to Tony. He was twisting in the trap that the sheets had become around him; fists clenched on his pillow and his face contorted with fear.   
Tony wasn't sure what to do, really. Waking him could result in a black eye for Tony. But leaving him to the horrors that were playing behind those closed lids seemed far worse.   
Tony pulled out from what was left of the sheets over him and pushed himself up to sit on his knees before reaching out to grab Tim's shoulder. “McGee,” he gently shook him. “Tim, wake up. It's just a-”  
Tim's eyes flew open, then; wild and unfocused. The figure that loomed over him was blurry and unfamiliar and he struggled against the confines of the sheets around him until he was upright with his back flush up against the headboard in a defensive stance.  
“It's okay, Tim,” Tony said, calmly. “It's just me. You were dreaming. You're okay, I promise.”

McGee blinked rapidly until Tony came into focus. “Tony?”

“Yeah, McGee,” he relaxed a portion and leaned on the headboard, allowing the adrenaline to wear back down. “You okay?” 

Tim dropped his gaze to the area of mattress between them and curled into himself as the memory of the vivid dream flooded back into his mind. “He hurt me...” he whispered. And Tony could hear the tears catch his throat. In fact, he could hear the ten year old child, and it nearly broke his heart. 

Tony inched a little closer, allowing his legs to push out from underneath him so he could sit on the mattress with his side still pressed to the headboard. He longed to reach out and comfort his colleague, but didn't want to cause him discomfort in the process. “I'm sorry, Tim,” he said, softly. And to his surprise, Tim turned his curled form to face Tony and burrowed himself into Tony's chest as silent tears made themselves known by the shaking in his shoulders.  
Tony swallowed against a lump in his throat, touched by the level of trust this man had for him, and horrified by the childlike state he'd been reduced to in that moment. He couldn't help but to put his arms around Tim to settle on his back. And he couldn't know whether this comforted his colleague or himself more... “You're gonna be okay...”  
Tim allowed himself a short session of tears, but found it wasn't necessary for long. In the arms of his best friend, he felt comforted in a way he'd never allowed himself in all his life; not for this reason, anyway. He'd never gone to anyone for comfort; never had someone hold him and tell him it was going to be alright. Only himself. But now...now he had that. And even if this was the only time, it would still be enough...

11 00 11 00 11

One week later...

Castiel had returned the night after he'd returned Hel to the proper world. Bobby had gone back home the day afterward, once they were sure the mess between dimensions had come to an end.   
Abby, Ducky and Ziva had returned to their homes almost immediately, feeling secure enough since the Winchesters had thoroughly checked out each one, top to bottom. Tim stayed a day longer than them; mostly because Tony and Gibbs had insisted. And since Tony was at the house so often outside of work, working on the car, it seemed only logical that he crashed there; no pun intended. Especially since it seemed a bit ridiculous to make Gibbs drive all the way to Tony's apartment every morning and evening just to play taxi, when most of Tony's clothes had ended up at Gibbs' house over the past weeks anyway.  
Dean and Sam had decidedly stayed in town...ya know, just in case. They'd gotten a motel room at a different place, seeing as the one they'd left a bit bloody might not be as willing to give them one again.   
They showed up at Gibbs' house every evening; Gibbs suspected Abby was tipping them off when they left NCIS. It was practically perfect timing that they pulled up, usually bringing dinner by and then getting straight to work on the car. While Gibbs normally would've given her hell, he hadn't. And that was mostly because he didn't really mind, which was surprising, even to him.   
The Winchesters really had no plans to do otherwise. Sam had spent the days looking for any strange signs in town or nearby. He'd limited the search to that area with no intentions to go elsewhere. It was strange, really. It was subconscious in a way.   
It was a week-long vacation that was well-deserved. And they were glad that things had been fairly slow over at NCIS as well. It gave them daylight hours to work on the car. And while they could have gone over to the house to work on it before they got there, they hadn't. That wasn't really the point, anyway...  
“Hey,” Dean's voice caused Sam to look up from his laptop at his older brother who was sitting with his foot up on the end of the bed, lacing his boot. “It's almost six. Abby said they're on their way outta the building and she's comin' over the house. She said she's pickin' up dinner on the way, so not to bother this time. You ready to go?” his brows rose hopefully as he set his foot back on the floor.

Sam's mouth curled up on one side as he closed his laptop, “Yeah, sure.” 

Dean smiled as he stood and grabbed his jacket and keys. “That countershaft part we need that Bobby found should be here today,” he said as he reached the door. 

“He ship it to Gibbs' place?”  
“Yeah. If it's here, we can start building the trans,” he grinned. “And McGee said he found a fender for the right side online.”

“Tim's gonna start helping out?”

“Well, he's finding stuff online, Sam. That's helpin', ain't it?” he said as he slid into the Impala and slipped the key into the ignition. 

“I can't believe we've gotten as far as we have, already,” Sam said as he closed his door after getting into the passenger side. 

“We did the easy part,” Dean said as they pulled away from the motel. “Peeling off the crap parts and piecing on the frame; that's the easy part. Putting together the stuff that has to actually work in the end, takes a little longer.”

Sam's cell rang in that moment and he fished it out of his pocket. “Hey, Bobby,” he greeted after checking the I.D. Dean glanced at Sam in intervals. “Really? Montana?” Sam looked out his window and Dean looked back out at the road, impatiently waiting for him to get off the phone. “You're sure?” Sam scratched his forehead. “Okay. Yeah, I'll let him know. Bye, Bobby.” He ended the call and stuck the phone back into his pocket before looking over at his brother.

“What is it?” Dean asked.

Sam looked down at the seat between them with regret on his face before meeting his brother's eyes again. “Bobby says there's a lot of demonic activity going on in a town called Medicine Lake in Montana.”

“Can't he send someone else there? Someone closer, I mean?”

“That's the thing,” he said. “He lost contact with them two days ago. He's afraid they might be in trouble, or worse.”

“Dude, it'll take like a day and a half to get there from here. And that's if we drive straight through. There's no one else? Nothing?” he was practically whining.

“He said he was giving them a few more days in case they're just somewhere without communication. But then he'll be heading out there himself, and he'll get there in 9 hours from his place. So...we can stay here till tomorrow morning. That'll give us enough time to drive there and be able to stop some for sleep.” His attempt at making it seem as though they had more time and didn't have to leave right then and there, didn't really seem to help, if the expression on Dean's face indicated anything. “Dean, we have to go. You know that.”

The older Winchester sighed. “Yeah,” he said quietly. Then he suddenly realized what Sam must've felt like when he'd had to leave his friends at Stanford. Though that was probably a fraction of the kind of connection they'd felt with this team.   
Dean had never had this kind of connection with anyone other than his parents and Sam. This would be easier for Sam, surely, as he'd done it before. But for Dean, he could already tell it would be hard. He didn't want to leave yet. Sam could see it.

“We can come back and visit,” Sam suggested.

“Yeah, sure. Like we do with your buddies from school, right?” Dean didn't look away from the road. Sam pursed his lips and looked back out his window. There was no use arguing or trying to convince him that this wouldn't be so bad. Because, in reality, Sam didn't really want to leave yet either...

11 00 11 00 11

Five friends sat at Gibbs' table eating the food Abby had been so gracious to bring. She and Sam had a salad; Tony, Gibbs and Dean each had a steak. And they all had baked potatoes. It didn't take the agents long to realize that the Winchesters were mainly pushing their meal around on their plates silently. But Tony was the one to say something first.   
“Something wrong?” he asked, and both of them looked up at him. “Just uh...seems you're both a lot quieter than normal.”

“Nothin's wrong,” Dean smirked. “Just thinkin', I guess.”

“Penny for your thoughts?” Abby smiled.

“Not sure they're worth that much, Abby,” he said with a small laugh. 

She pursed her lips and turned her head to look at Sam who sat on the other side of her. “What's up, Sam? What's on your mind?”

Sam shared a quick glance with his brother before meeting Abby's eyes. “Got a call from Bobby today,” he said as he looked back down at his plate. Then he looked over at Gibbs and Tony. “We've got a case in Montana. We have to leave tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow?” Abby's face morphed into unhappy surprise. 

“That's kinda...sudden, huh?” Tony said in a tone that Gibbs recognized as disappointment.

“What's goin' on in Montana?” Gibbs asked.

“Demonic activity,” Sam replied. “Bobby said there were a couple hunters checking it out a few days back. A string of murders in Medicine Lake and sulfur found at each scene.”

“But he lost contact with them two days ago,” Dean continued. “So Bobby's gonna meet us out there and we'll figure out what happened to them, if we can. Hopefully take care of the problem, too.”

“Pretty long drive,” Gibbs said.

“I don't mind drivin',” Dean supplied.

“That and he hates flying,” Sam said with a smirk. “Last time we were on a plane didn't really help the issue either, though.”

“You're afraid of flying?” Abby cocked her head.

“I'm afraid of crashing!” he defended.

“With everything you've seen in your lifetime, it's just a little hard to understand,” Tony said.

“That's what I said,” Sam told Tony. 

“It's not an irrational fear,” Dean pointed out.

“You can't join the mile-high club if you never fly, Dean,” Tony smirked. Then he felt a smack to the back of his head and straightened. “Sorry, boss.”

“I didn't say I wouldn't ever fly. I'd just like to...avoid it whenever possible. And right now, it's possible.” He cut into his steak and shoved a large piece into his mouth to avoid having to talk for a minute. Gibbs couldn't help a smirk and he looked over at Tony who was now twisting his fork around in his baked potato. 

“Did you get a package today?” Sam asked.

“Yeah,” Gibbs replied. “It's in the garage. From Bobby.”

“Dean says it's the last piece we need for the transmission. Guess we can see how much we can get it put together before the end of the night.” 

Gibbs nodded. Tony cleared his throat, “So, you think you'll be back in town at all in the future?”

“It's a possibility,” Dean said after swallowing his mouthful of steak. “We go where we're needed. 'Course, D.C seems to be pretty quiet lately,” he smirked. 

“We'll be sure to call you if that changes,” Abby told him. “Oh! I should...call McGee and Ziva and Ducky and let them know you're heading out tomorrow. They'll wanna come say goodbye. Would you come back here before you go?”

“You can crash here tonight, if you want,” Gibbs offered. “Might make it a little easier.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked. “Okay...thanks.”

“I'll go pick up our stuff and bring it back here after we eat,” Sam said.   
Feeling a bit better, Sam and Dean resumed eating their meals at a more normal pace. 

11 00 11 00 11

It was five in the morning when Dean finally decided that lying awake in his hammock was no longer working for him. And since he'd heard movement upstairs, probably the kitchen as he'd heard the water come on briefly, he pushed up to make his way up there.  
“Didn't mean to wake you,” Gibbs said when Dean entered the kitchen.

“You didn't,” he replied vaguely. “I keep forgetting you get up this early normally,” he smirked. Gibbs cocked his head slightly as he poured himself a mug of coffee, then pulled another cup down and poured one for Dean. He brought both to the table and sat down. “Thanks,” Dean said as he took the proffered cup Gibbs slid toward him. He decidedly sat down across from him.

“Planning to leave fairly early?” he asked. “I can only assume, since you're up right now.”

“Nah, I got up probably an hour ago. Just couldn't get back to sleep. We'll be here 'til everyone else stops by, at least.” He picked up his mug and took a long, appreciative drink, then grimaced slightly, “Jesus, that's strong... What is that, jet fuel?”

Gibbs grinned, “Somethin' like that.” 

“That'll get you goin'. Probably in more ways than one,” he smirked and took another sip. Then his smile slowly faded as he focused on the table top.

“Somethin' about that hunt keepin' you up?” Gibbs asked with concern as he narrowed his eyes.

Dean looked up at him, “Nah, not really. Just the fact that we have to go, I suppose.” He hadn't really meant to say that, and it didn't come out the way he'd wanted it to. “I mean, uh...we don't really wanna leave, ya know?” he gave a half-smile as he met Gibbs' eyes for a brief moment, then quickly looked down at his coffee as he brought it to his lips again.

“Guess you don't really get to stay anywhere for very long,” Gibbs surmised.

“Not just that. Sam and I, we don't really...get to have friends outside of the business, ya know? It's kinda hard to leave when you do. And in our experience, people we do meet along the way seem to end up in harm's way, even after we're gone. People die...” he looked down again, realizing that this, perhaps, was his biggest fear about leaving. He remembered, all too well, what had happened once they left Hendrickson and the others that had helped them in that jailhouse. People get killed. People that help them... Having friends wasn't an option, because friends can get killed, and it's usually because of them.

“We're not really outside of the business anymore, are we?” Gibbs cocked his head. “And we're probably less likely to get killed than the two of you,” he raised a brow, daring him to challenge the statement. 

Dean couldn't hold back a smirk, “You have died a lot less than us, speaking for the group,” he let out a small laugh. And once again, his smile slowly faded. His eyes wandered around the kitchen, looking through the doorway out into the living room, then over out the door to the deck. Finally they settled back toward the man before him. “As much as I hated bein' stuck in here most of the time, I'm gonna miss the hell outta this house, Gibbs,” he half-smiled.

“Door's always open,” he slightly cocked his head, “Even now.”

“Well, you don't have all that angel-protection mojo anymore, so you might wanna rethink that,” Dean warned, lightheartedly. He wouldn't bring up the fact that he and Sam had placed some various, inconspicuous protective charms around the house the night before. 

“I think we're pretty well covered,” Gibbs said. And Dean wasn't completely surprised that the man already knew what they'd done. “You know, if the two of you ever get into a tight spot and need our help, you can call. My phone's always on, except on my anniversaries... and then DiNozzo's phone is always on.”

“One of the rules, right? Never be unreachable?”

“You'd make a good agent,” he told him. “If you weren't dead...or on FBI's Most Wanted list,” he gave a short-lived laugh.

“Yeah?” Dean smiled at that. “Well...if life had turned out a little differently, who knows. I woulda liked that,” he took a drink from his mug. “But I dunno that I'd be a good agent; I'm more of a 'shoot first; ask questions later' kinda guy. Sam, though...he'd be a great agent. He's smart, knows his stuff; he's a good shot...”

“He learned from you,” Gibbs reminded him. “Don't sell yourself short.”

“He didn't learn 'smart' from me. But don't tell him I said that.”

“He reads more, ya mean. You're smart, Dean. You know what you need to know to get the job done. Sam makes it easier and maybe a little less messy. You make a good team. It's the same thing that makes my team a good team. Hell, I think it's part of the reason we all worked so well together in this.”

“Yeah, Cas was right; we have a lot in common,” Dean's eyes focused somewhere between them in the air. “I'm gonna miss you guys,” he said with a sad smile as he tried desperately to avoid turning this into a 'chick-flick' moment with the lump that was forming in his throat.

Gibbs considered him for a long, silent moment before replying. “You don't need an excuse to stop in some time, ya know?” Dean met his eyes again. “Like I said, door's always open. And the two of you are welcome here anytime.”

Dean looked at him with grateful eyes, though still a bit saddened. “Thanks, Gibbs,” he said in a soft voice. But in his heart he knew that the chances of them being able to come see them again were slim if any at all. Funny thing about experience; history tends to repeat itself. And if history ever taught the Winchesters anything over the years, it was that they would always lose their family in the end...

11 00 11 00 11

Goodbyes are hard. No matter how they said it in the end, whether it be 'See you around' or 'Til next time'...it almost always meant the same thing when all was said and done. It came with the territory of being hunter. It was a life they'd chosen. A life destined to them. A life they'd accepted and a curse they'd always have to bear.  
But as they said their goodbyes, shook hands, exchanged brief hugs, they knew that destiny was what had brought them all together in the first place. Perhaps destiny would bring them back together some day again. For now, though, saying goodbye was still hard. Like leaving home and family behind to go on and live life separately, as it had always been before.   
Dean turned his head from the group to look over at Tony who was standing away from the rest of them. He was facing the open garage, seemingly looking thoughtfully at the partially rebuilt front end of the Mustang. Dean walked over to stand beside him. “Send me a picture when she's finished,” he requested. 

Tony nodded mutely, a small smile playing on his lips. “Sucks that you can't stay 'til she's done.”

“You've got Gibbs to help with that,” he told him. “She'll be done in no time.”

Tony nodded again. “Look...I hate these kinds'a goodbyes,” he gave a small laugh that Dean knew by now was a bluff to hide whatever it was he was really feeling underneath.

“What kind?”

“Ya know, the 'probably won't see you again in this lifetime' kind,” he met his eyes briefly. 

Dean had to let out a laugh at that, “That kinda has a whole new meaning now, doesn't it?” His smile faded though at the sad one on Tony's face. “Hey, man. Chances are, you'll be bailin' us outta some federal prison at one point or another, right? It's a small world; we could bump into each other. Who knows?” he wasn't sure who he was trying to convince. “Or you could try to convince Vance to open up a special department for paranormal investigating,” he smirked. “We could call it the X Files division.”

That got a smile out of Tony, “Yeah, but which one of you would be Scully?” 

“Well Sam, of course,” he said without hesitation.

“And your ghost-busting will be limited to Navy and Marine personnel on the Eastern part of the U.S. Yeah, maybe when you're thinkin' about retiring,” he said with a smile.

“I think about retiring at least once a week,” he smirked.

“You about ready?” Sam asked as he came up behind them.

Dean turned his head, “Yeah,” he said as he tossed him the keys. “You take first drive, Sammy. I didn't get much sleep. I'll meet you at the car in a minute.”

With a brief furrowing of his brow in surprise of being handed the keys, he looked at Tony and gave a small nod before heading toward the car. The two of them had said their goodbyes earlier.  
“So uh,” Dean turned to face Tony and held out his hand, “I'll see you around.”

“Yeah,” Tony shook his hand, and in a last moment decision, Dean pulled him into a hug, patting his back. 

“Thanks.” It was for everything Tony had done for them; for Sam. They'd come to help Tony in the beginning, but Tony had returned that favor ten-fold. 

Tony watched as the older Winchester headed toward the Impala, and he absentmindedly made his way back over to his team that stood in the lawn near the car. All but Gibbs, who stood on the porch.  
Dean got in and closed the door, then glanced to the team leader who met his eyes in that moment. Gibbs nodded his unspoken goodbye, and Dean returned it, then held a hand out to wave to the team before Sam pulled onto the road and drove away from the place they'd called home...just for a little while.

“You okay?” Sam asked from the driver seat.  
Dean glanced over at him intending to brush the question off. But then he realized something; Sam never really knew a home or a family. Not really. Not a real one. The whole college thing was the closest he'd come, so no wonder he'd been reluctant to leave it. And by the small signs of sadness Dean could detect on his younger brother's face, he knew he'd misjudged how hard this was on him, too.   
He thought back on the previous weeks of their time there in D.C. Back to the long hours of thinking he might lose Sam. Had that happened, staying in that place that felt like a home wouldn't really have made anything okay.  
The fact was that he had his brother. They had each other. They were their family and anywhere they ended up, be a house full of people that welcomed them and treated them like family, or a cheap, tacky motel room with double beds and a semi-functional coffee maker, as long as they had each other, it was home. That's what mattered in the end. And that's what kept them going, even when it hurt.

“Yeah, Sammy,” he grinned. “I'm good.” Sam glanced at him, and his face lit up a bit to see Dean in good spirits. That's when Dean knew everything really would be okay...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fin


End file.
